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LECTURES 



ON THE 



PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY, 



BY 



(/^WrFrR^GEL. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE THIRD GERMAN EDITION 
Jf SIB REE, M.A. 



'The History of the World is not intelli^ble apart ftom a Government of 
the World."— W. v. Humboldt. 



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COVENT GARDEN. 

1881. 



5^ 






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PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITEPv 

STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. 



JUL 1 7 1934 



TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 



Hegel's Lectures on tlie Philosophy of History are recog* 
nized in Germany as a popular introduction to his system ; 
their form is less rigid than the generality of metaphysical trea- 
tises, and the illustrations, which occupy a large proportion of 
the work, are drawn from a field of observation more familiar 
perhaps, than any other, to those who have not devoted 
much time to metaphysical studies. One great value of the 
work is that it presents the leading facts of History from an 
altogether novel point of view. And when it is considered 
that the writings of Hegel have exercised a marked influence 
on the political movements of Germany, it will be admitted 
that his theory of the universe, especially that part which 
bears directly upon politics, deserves attention even from 
those who are the most exclusive advocates of the * practical.' 

A writer who has established his claim to be regarded as 
an authority, by the life which he has infused into metaphy- 
fiical abstractions, has pronounced the work before us, "one 
of the pleasantest books on the subject he ever read."* 

And compared with that of most Grerman writers, even 
the style may claim to be called vigorous and pointed. If 
therefore in its English dress the Philosophy of History 
should be found deficient in this respect, the fault must not 
be attributed to the original. 

It has been the aim of the translator to present his author 

• Mr. G. H. Lewes, in his Bioffr. Hist, of Philosophy, Vol. IV. Ed. 1841. 



iV PBEFACE. 

to the public in a really English form, even at the cost 
of a circumlocution which must sometimes do injustice to 
the merits of the original. A few words however have 
necessarily been used in a rather unusual sense ; and one of 
I them is of very frequent occurrence. The G-erman ' Geist,' 
in Hegel's nomenclature, includes both Intelligence and 
Will, the latter even more expressly than the former. - It 
embraces in fact man's entire mental and moral being, and a 
little reflection will make it obvious that no term in our 
metaphysical vocabulary could have been well substituted 
for the more theological one, * Spirit,' as a fair equivalent* 
It is indeed only the impersonal and abstract use of the 
term that is open to objection ; an objection which can be 
met by an appeal to the best classical usage ; viz. the ren- 
dering of the Hebrew H-IT and Greek TrvEvjxa in the Author- 
ized Version of the Scriptures. One indisputable instance 
may suffice in confirmation : " Their horses (i.e. of the Egyp- 
tians) are flesh and not spirit.''^ (Isaiah xxxi. 3.) It is 
pertinent to remark here, that the comparative disuse of this 
term in English metaphysical literature, is one result of that 
alienation of theology from philosophy with which conti- 
nental writers of the most opposite schools agree in taxing 
the speculative genius of Britain — an alienation which 
mainly accounts for the gulf separating English from Ger- 
man speculation, and which will, it is feared, on other ac- 
counts also be the occasion of communicating a somewhat 
uninviting aspect to the following pages. 
^. j The distinction which the Germans make between * Sitt- 
ilichkeit' and 'Moralitat,' has presented another difficulty. 
The former denotes Conventional Morality, the latter that of 
the Heart or Conscience. Where no ambiguity was likely 



PREFACE. y 

to arise, both terms have been translated ' Morality.' In 
other cases a stricter rendering has been given, modified by 
the requirements of the context. The word * Moment* is, 
as readers of Grerman philosophy are aware, a veritable crux 
to the translator. In Mr. J. B. Morell's very valuable edi- 
tion of Johnson^s iraiislatiexL :f Tennemann's ' Manual of 
the History of Philosophy/ (Bohn's Philos. Library), the 
following explanation is given : " This term was borrowed 
from Mechanics by Hegel (see his Wissenschafb der Logik, 
vol. 3. p. 104. ed. 1841.) He employs it to denote the con- 
tending forces which are mutually dependent, and whose 
contradiction forms an equation. Hence his formula, JEsse= 
Nothing. Here JEsse and Nothing are momentums, giving 
birth to Werden, i.e. Existence. Thus the momentum con- 
tributes to the same oneness of operation in contradictory 
forces that we see in mechanics, amidst contrast and diver-i 
sity, in weight and distance, in the case of the balance."! 
But in several parts of the work before us this definition isl 
not strictly adhered to, and the Translator believes he has I 
done justice to the original in rendering the word by ' Suc- 
cessive' or 'Organic Phase.' In the chapter on the Crusades 
another term occurs which could not be simply rendered into 
English. The definite, positive, and present embodiment of 
Essential Being is there spoken of as ' eiu Dieses,' * das 
Dieses,' &c., literally 'slTMs,' 'the This,' for which repulsive 
combination a periphrasis has been substituted, which, it is 
believed, is not only accurate but expository. Paraphrastic 
additions, however, have been, in fairness to the reader, en- 
closed in brackets [ ] ; and the philosophical appropriation 
of ordinary terms is generally indicated by capitals, e.ff. 
* Spirit,' ' Freedom,' ' State,' ' Nature,' &c. 



VI PliEFACE. 

The limits of a brief preface preclude an attempt to ex- 
plain the Hegelian method in its wider applications ; and 
such an undertaking is rendered altogether unnecessary by 
the facilities which are afforded by works so very accessible 
as the translation of Tennemann above mentioned, Chaly- 
baeus's * Historical Development of Speculative Philosophy, 
from Kant to Hegel,'* Blakey's History of the Philosophy 
of Mind,t Mr. Lewes' s Biographical History of Philosophy, 
besides treatises devoted more particularly to the Hegelian 
philosophy. Among these latter may be fairly mentioned 
the work of a Prench Professor, M. Yera, * Introduction a 
la philosophic de Hegel,' a lucid and earnest exposition of 
3 the system at large ; and the very able summary of Hegel's 
(' Philosophy of Eight,' by T. C. Sandars, late fellow of Oriel 
I College, which forms one of the series of ' Oxford Essays' 
for 1855, and which bears directly on the subject of the 
present volume. 

It may, nevertheless, be of some service to the reader to 
indicate the point of view from which this Philosophy of 
History is composed, and to explain the leading idea. The 
substance of this explanation has already been given in the 
foot-notes accompanying the translation ; but, considering the 
unfamiliar character of the line of thought, a repetition 
will not, it is hoped, be deemed obtrusive. 

The aim and scope of that civilizing process which all 
hopeful thinkers recognize in History, is the attainment of 
E-ATIONAL Peeedom. But the very term Freedom sup- 
poses a previous bondage; and the question naturally 
arises : " Bondage to what ?" — A superficial inquirer may 

* Republished by Mr. Bohu at 3* 6d. 
t Jb'our vols. S . London, 1850, £1. 1*. 



PREFACE. Vll 

be satisfied with an answer referring it to the pJiysical 
power of the ruling body. Such a response was deemed 
satisfactory by a large number of political speculators 
'in the last century, and even at the beginning of the pre- 
sent; audit is one of the great merits of an influential 
thinker of our days to have expelled this idolum forty which 
had also become an idolvm theatri, from its undue position ; 
and to have revived the simple truth that all stable organi- 
zations of men, all religious and political communities, are 
based upon principles which are far beyond the control of 
the One or the Many. And in these principles or some 
phase of them every man in every clime and age is born, 
lives and moves. The only question is : "Whence ar^ 
those principles derived ? Whence spring those primary 
beliefs or superstitions, religious and political, that hold 
society together ? They are no inventions of ' priest- 
craft ' or ' kingcraft,' for to them priestcraft and king- 
craft owe their power. They are no results of a Contrat 
Social, for with them society originates. Nor are they 
the mere suggestions of man's weakness, prompting him 
to propitiate the powers of Nature, in furtherance of his 
finite, earthborn desires. Some of the phenomena of the 
religious systems that have prevailed in the world might 
seem thus explicable ; but the Nihilism of more than one 
Oriental creed, the suicidal strivings of the Hindoo devotee 
to become absorbed in a Divinity recognized as a pure ne- 
gation, cannot be reduced to so gross a formula ; while the 
political superstition that ascribes a Divine Eight to the 
feebleness of a woman or an infant is altogether untouched 
by it. Nothing is left therefore but to recognize them as 
* fancies,' * delusions,' 'dreams,' the results of man's vain 



▼Ill PREFACE. 

imagination, — to class them with the other absurdities with 
which the abortive past of Humanity is by some thought to 
be only too replete ; or, on the other hand, to regard them 
as the rudimentary teachings of that Essential Intelligence 
in which man's intellectual and moral life originates. With 
Hegel they are the objective manifestation of infinite Eeason 

the first promptings of Him who having " made of one 
blood all nations of men for to dwell on the face of the earth, 
hath determined the times before appointed, and the bounds 
of their habitation, if haply they might feel after and find 
him," — Tov yap koI yerog eajjiiv. And it is these jcatpoi Trpo- 
rerayixivoi, these determined and organic epochs in the his- 
tory of the world that Hegel proposes to distinguish and 
develop in the following treatise. 

Whatever view may be entertained as to the origin or 
importance of those elementary principles, and by whatever 
general name they may be called — Spontaneous, Primary, or 
Objective Intelligence — it seems demonstrable that it is in 
some sense or other to its own belief, its own E-eason or 
essential being, that imperfect humanity is in bondage ; 
while the perfection of social existence is commonly regarded 
as a deliverance from that bondage. In the Hegelian sys- 
tem, this paradoxical condition is regarded as one phase of 
that antithesis which is presented in all spheres of existence, 
between the Subjective and the Objective, but which it is 
the result of the natural and intellectual processes that con- 
stitute the life of the universe, to annul by merging into one 
absolute existence. And however startling this theory may 
be as applied to other departments of nature and intelli- 
gence, it appears to be no unreasonable formula for the 
course of civilization, and which is substantially as follows : 



PREFACE. IX 

In less cultivated nations, political and moral restrictions 
are looked upon as objectively posited ; the constitution of 
society, like the world of natural objects, is regarded as 
something into which a man is inevitably born; and the 
individual feels himself bound to comply with requirements 
of whose justice or propriety he is not allowed to judge 
though they often severely test his endurance, and even de- 
mand the sacrifice of his life. In a state of high civiliza- 
tion, on the contrary, though an equal self-sacrifice be called 
for, it is in respect of laws and institutions which are felt 
to be just and desirable. This change of relation may, 
without any very extraordinary use of terms, or extravagance 
of speculative conceit, be designated the harmonization or 
reconciliation of Objective and Subjective intelligence. The 
successive phases which humanity has assumed in passing 
from that primitive state of bondage to this condition of 
Eational Freedom form the chief subject of the following 
lectures. 

The mental and moral condition of individuals and their 
social and religious conditions (the subjective and objective 
manifestations of Beason) exhibit a strict correspondence 
with each other in every grade of progress. " They that 
make them are like unto them," is as true of religious and 
political ideas as of religious and political idols. Where 
man sets no value on that part of his mental and moral life 
which makes him superior to the brutes, brute life will be an 
ol)ject of worship and bestial sensuality will be the genius 
of the ritual. "Where mere inaction is the finis lonorum^ 
absorption in Nothingness will be the aim of the devotee. 
Where, on the contrary, active and vigorous virtue is recog^ 
nized as constituting the real value of man—where sub- 



PEEFACE. 



jective spirit has learned to assert its own Freedom, both 
against irrational and unjust requirements from without, and 
caprice, passion, and sensuality, from within, it will demand 
a living, acting, just, and holy, embodiment of Deity as the 
only possible object of its adoration. In the same degree, 
political principles also will be affected. "Where mere Na- 
ture predominates, no legal relations will be acknowledged 
but those based on natural distinction; rights will be 
inexorably associated with * caste.' Where, on the other 
hand. Spirit has attained its Freedom, it will require a code 
of laws and a political constitution, in which the rational 
subordination of nature to reason that prevails in its own 
being, and the strength it feels to resist sensual seductions 
shall be distinctly mirrored. 

Between the lowest and highest grades of intelligence 
and will, there are several intervening stages, around which 
a complex of derivative ideas, and of institutions, arts, and 
sciences, in harmony with them, are aggregated. Each of 
these aggregates has acquired a name in history as a dis- 
tinct nationality. Where the distinctive principle is losing 
its vigour, as the result of the expansive force of mind of 
which it was only the temporary embodiment, the national 
life declines, and we have the transition to a higher grade, 
in which a comparatively abstract and limited phase of 
subjective intelligence and will, — to which corresponds an 
equally imperfect phase of objective Eeason, — is exchanged 
for one more concrete, and vigorous — one which developes 
human capabilities more freely and fully, and in which Eight 
is more adequately comprehended. 

The goal of this contention is, as already indicated, the 
Belf-realization, the complete development of Spirit, whose 



PBEFACE. II 

proper nature is Freedom — Freedom in both senses of the 
term, i.e. liberation from outward control — inasmuch as the 
law to which it submits has its own explicit sanction, — and 
emancipation from the inward slavery of lust and passion. 

The above remarks are not designed to afford anything 
like a complete or systematic analysis of Hegel's Philosophy 
of History, but simply to indicate its leading conception, 
and if possible to contribute something towards removing a 
prejudice against it on the score of its resolving facts into 
mystical paradoxes, or attempting to construe them a 'priori. 
In applying the theory, some facts may not improbably have 
been distorted, some brought into undue prominence, and 
others altogether neglected. In the most cautious and 
limited analysis of the Past, failures and perversions of this 
kind are inevitable : and a comprehensive view of History is 
proportionately open to mistake. But it is another question 
whether the principles applied in this work to explain the 
course which civilization has followed, are a correct inference 
from historical facts, and afford a reliable clue to the ex- 
planation of their leading aspects. """"'^ 

The translator would remark, in conclusion, that the " In- 
troduction " will probably be found the most tedious and 
difl&cult part of the treatise ; he would therefore suggest a 
cursory reading of it in the first instance, and a second 
perusal as a resume of principles which are more completely 
illustrated in the body of the work. 

J, S. 
Upper Grange, Stroud, 
Nov. 25th, 1857. 



»l 



PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 



The first question that suggests itself on the publication 
of a new Philosophy of History is why, of all the depart- 
ments of so-called Practical Philosophy, this should have 
been the latest cultivated and the least adequately discussed. 
For it was not until the beginning of the eighteenth century 
that Vico made the first attempt to substitute for that 
view of History which regarded it either as a succession of 
fortuitous occurrences, or as the supposed but not clearly 
recognized work of Grod, a conception of it as an embodiment 
of primordial laws, and a product of Reason — a theory which 
so far from contravening the moral freedom of humanity, 
posits the only conditions in which that freedom can be de- 
veloped. 

This fact can however be explained in a few brief observa- 
tions. The laws of Being and Thought, the economy of 
Nature, the phenomena of the human soul, even legal aijd 
political organisms ; nor less the forms of Art and the ac- 
knowledged manifestations of Grod in other modes have always 
passed for stable and immutable existences, if not as far as 
subjective views of them are concerned, yet certainly in their 
objective capacity. It is otherwise with the movements of 
History. The extrinsic contingency which predominates in 
the rise and fall of empires and of individuals, the triumphs 
of vice over virtue, the confession sometimes extorted, that 
there have been instances in which crimes have been pro- 
ductive of the greatest advantage to mankind, and that muta- 
bility which must be regarded as the inseparable companion 
of human fortunes, tend to keep up the belief that History 
stands on such a basis of shifting caprice, on such an uncer- 
tain fire-vomiting volcano, that every endeavour to discover 
rules, ideas, the Divine and Eternal here, may be justly con- 
demned as an attempt to insinuate adventitious subtleties, 
as the bubble-blowing of a priori construction or a vain 



PEEFACE TO THE FIUST EDITION. XIU 

play of imagination. While men do not hesitate to admire 
God in the objects of Nature, it is deemed almost blasphemy 
to recognize him in human exertions and human achieve- 
ments ; it is supposed to be an exaltation of the disconnected 
results of caprice —results which a mere change of humour 
might have altered — above their proper value, to suppose a 
principle underlying them for which the passions of their 
authors left no room in their own minds. In short, men 
revolt from declaring the products of Free-Will and of the 
human spirit to be eternal, because they involve only one 
element of stability and consistency — the advance amid con- 
stant mutability to a richer and more fully developed cha- 
racter. An important advance in Thought was required, a 
filling up of the "wide gulf" that separates Necessity from 
Liberty, before a guiding hand could be demonstrated as well 
as recognized in this most intractable because most unstable 
element — before a Grovernment of the World in the History 
of the World could be, not merely asserted but indicated, 
and Spirit be regarded as no more abandoned by Grod than 
Nature. Before this could be done, a series of millenniums 
must roll away : the work of the human spirit must reach a 
high degree of perfection, before that point of view can be 
attained, from which a comprehensive survey of its career is 
possible. Only now, when Christendom has elaborated an 
outward embodiment for its inward essence, in the form of 
civilized and free states, has the time arrived not merely 
for a History based on Philosophy, but for the Philosophy 
of History. 

One other remark must not be withheld, and which is per- 
haps adapted to reconcile even the opponents of Philosophy, 
at least to convince them that in the ideal comprehension of 
History, the original facts are not designed to be altered or 
violence of any kind done them . The remark in question has 
reference to what is regarded as belonging to Philosophy in 
these events. Not every trifling occurrence, not every phe- 
nomenon pertaining rather to the sphere of individual life 
than to the course of the World-Spirit, is to be " construed," 
as it is called, and robbed of its life and substance by a 
withering formula. There is nothing more alien to intelli- 
gence, and consequently nothing more ridiculous than the 
descending to that micrology which attempts to explain in- 



XIV PUEFACE TO 

different matters— which endeavours to represent that as 
necessitated which might have been decided in one way 
quite as well as in another, and of which in either case, he 
who presumes to construe the occurrence in question, would 
have found an explanation. Philosophy is degraded by this 
mechanical application of its noblest organs, while a recon- 
ciliation with those who occupy themselves with its empirical 
details is thereby rendered impossible. What is left for 
Philosophy to claim as its own, consists not in the demon- 
stration of the necessity of all occurrences, — in regard to 
which, on the contrary, it may content itself with mere nar- 
ration, — but rather in removing that veil of obscurity which 
conceals the fact that every considerable aggregate of nations, 
every important stadium of History has an idea as its basis, 
and that all the transitions and developments which the 
annals of the past exhibit to us, can be referred to the events 
that preceded them. In this artistic union of the merely 
descriptive element on the one hand, with that which aspires 
to the dignity of speculation, on the other hand, will lie the 
real value of a Philosophy of History. 

Again, the treatises on the Philosophy of History that 
have appeared within the last hundred years or thereabouts 
differ in the point of view from which they have been com- 
posed, vary with the national character of their ^respective 
authors, and lastly, are often mere indications of a Philoso- 
phy of History than actual elaborations of it. Por we must 
at the outset clearly distinguhh Pkilosojyhies from Theosophies, 
which latter resolve all events directly into God, while the for- 
mer unfold the manifestation of God in the real world. More- 
over, it is evident that the Philosophies of History which have 
appeared among the Italians and the French, have but little 
connection with a general system of thought, as constituting 
one of its organic constituents ; and that their views, though 
often correct and striking, cannot demonstrate their own 
inherent necessity. Lastly, much has often been introduced 
into the Philosophy of History that has been of a mysti- 
cal, rhapsodical order, that has not risen above a mere 
fugitive hint, an undeveloped fundamental idea ; and though 
in many cases the great merit of such contributions can- 
not be denied, their place would be only in the vestibule of 
our science. We have certainly no wish to deny that among 



• THE FIRST EDITIOS^. XV 

the Germans Leibnitz, Lessing, WegueliUj^ Iselin, Kant, 
Mchte, Schelling, Schiller, W. von Humboldt,"^ Gorres, 
Stevens and Rosencranz,f have given utterance to observa- 
tions of a profound, ingenious and permanently valuable order, 
respecting both the basis of History generally and the con- 
nection that exists between events and the spirit of which 
they are demonstrably the embodiment. Among Erench 
writers, who would refuse to admire in Bossuet the refined 
ecclesiastical and teleological genius which regards the His- 
tory of the World as a vast map spread out before it ; in Mon- 
tesquieu the prodigious talent that makes events transform 
themselves instanter to thoughts in his quick apprehension ; 
or in Balanche and Michelet the seer's intuition that pierces 
the superficial crust of circumstances and discerns the hidden 
forces with which they originated ? But if actually elaborated 
Philosophies of History are in question, four writers only 
present themselves, Vico, Serder, Fr. v. ScMegel,^ and lastly 
the Philosopher whose work we are here introducing to the 
public. 

Vico's life and literary labours carry us back to a period 
in which the elder philosophies are being supplanted by the 
Cartesian ; but the latter has not yet advanced beyond the 
contemplation of the fundamental ideas — Being and Thought; 
it is not yet equipped for a descent into the concrete World 
of History, or prepared to master it. Vico, in attempting to 
exhibit the principles of History in his " Scienza Nuova," is 
obliged to rely on the guidance of the ancients and to adopt 
the classical ^iXoo-o^ry/xara : in his investigations it is the data 
of ancient rather than of modern records that arrest his 
attention : Peudality and its history is with him rather a 
supplement to the development of Greece and Eome than 
something specifically distinct therefrom. Although at the 
close of his book he asserts that the Christian religion, even 
in its influence on human aims, excels all the religions of 
the world, he stops short of anything like an elaboration of 
this statement. The separation and distinction between the 
Middle Ages and the Modern Time cannot be exhibited, as 

* In an academic dissertation, whose style is as masterly as its contents 
arc profound : " On the Task of the Historian.*' 

t In his animated and genially clever tractate : " Wliat tJ t Germans 
have accomplished for the Philosophy of History." 

X Translated in Bohn's Standard Library. 



XVI PEEFACE TO 

fche Beformation and its effects are excluded from considera- 
fcion. Besides, he undertakes to discuss the rudiments of 
human intelHgence, Language, Poetry, Homer ; as a Jurist 
he has to go down into the depths of Roman Law, and to 
investigate them ; while all this — the main stream of thought, 
episodes, expansion of the ideas and reverting to their princi- 
ples — is further varied by a proneness to hunt out etymo- 
logies and give verbal explanations, which often serves to 
retard and disturb the most important processes of historical 
evolution. Most persons are thus deterred by the repulsive 
exterior from apprehending the profound truths which it 
envelopes ; the latter are not sufficiently obvious on the 
surface, and the gold is thrown away with the dross that 
conceals it. 

In Herder we find traits of excellence which are wanting 
in Yico. He is himself a poet, and he approaches History 
in a poetic spirit ; further he does not detain the reader by 
prefatory inquiries into the foundations and vestibules of 
History — Poetry, Art, Language, and Law : he begins imme- 
diately with points of climate and geography; moreover the 
entire field of History lies open before him : his liberal Pro- 
testant and cosmopolitan culture gives him an insight into all 
nationalities and views, and renders him capable of transcend- 
ing mere traditional notions to an unlimited extent. Some- 
times, too, he hits upon " the right word " with wonderful feli- 
city ; the teleological principle on which his speculations are 
based does not hinder him from doing justice to the varieties 
[of the actual world], and in comparing historical periods the 
analogy they bear to the stages of human life does not 
escape him. But these "Ideas contributory to the Philoso- 
phy of the History of Mankind " contradict their title by 
the very fact that not only are all metaphysical categories 
banished, but a positive hatred to metaphysics is the very 
element in which they move. The Philosophy of History 
in Herder's hands therefore, broken off" from its proper basis, 
is a highly intellectual, often striking, and on the other hand 
often defective "■ raisonnemenV — a Theodicsea rather of the 
Heart and Understanding than of Reason. This alienation 
from its natural root leads by necessary consequence to an 
enthusiasm which often obstructs the current of thought, and 
to interjections of astonishment, instead of that contention of 
mind which results in demonstration. The theologian, the 



THE FIUST EDITIOIf. XVll 

genial preacher, the entranced admirer of the works of Grod, 
very often intrudes with his subjective peculiarities amid the 
objectivity of History. 

In Frederick v. SchlegeVs Philosophy of History we may 
find, if we choose to look, a fundamental idea, which can be 
called a philosophical one. It is this, namely, that Man 
was created free ; that two courses lay before him, between 
which he was competent to choose — that which led up- 
wards, and that which led downwards to the abyss. Had 
he remained firm and true to the primary will that proceeded 
from Grod, his freedom would have been that of blessed 
spirits ; that view being rejected as quite erroneous, which 
represents the paradisaical condition as one of blissful idle- 
ness. But as man unhappily chose the second path, there 
was from that time forward a divine and a natural will in 
him ; and the great problem for the life of the individual as 
also for that of the entire race, is the conversion and trans- 
formation of the lower earthly and natural will more and 
more into the higher and divine will. This Philosophy of 
History, therefore, really begins with the dire and strange 
lament, that there should be a history at all, and that man 
did not remain in the unhistorical condition of blessed spirits. 
History, in this view, is an apostasy — the obscuration of 
man's pure and divine being ; and instead of a possibility 
of discovering Grod in it, it is rather the Negative of Grod 
which is mirrored in it. Whether the race will ultimately 
succeed in returning completely and entirely to Grod, is on 
this shewing only a matter of expectation and hope, which^ 
since humanity has once more darkened its prospects by 
Protestantism, must, at least to Frederick v. Schlegel, 
appear doubtful. In elaborating the characteristic princi- 
ples and historical development of the several nations, 
wherever that fundamental idea retires somewhat into the 
background, an intellectual platitude manifests itself, which 
seeks to make up by smooth and polished diction for the 
frequent tenuity of the thought. A desire to gain repose for 
his own mind, to justify himself, and to maintain the Catholic 
stand-point against the requirements of the modern world, 
gives his treatise a somewhat far-fetched and premeditated 
tone, which deprives facts of their real character to give them 
that tinge which will connect them with the results they are 
brought forward to establish. 



XVIU PEE FACE TO 

Hegel's Lectures on the Philosophy of History, to which 
we now come, have at starting a great advantage over 
their predecessors, apart from the merits of their contents. 
First and foremost they are connected with a system of 
thought logically elaborated even to its minutest members : 
they claim to exhibit the Logos of History, just as there is 
a Logos of Nature, of the Soul, of Law, of Art, &c. Here, 
then, mere flashes of thought, mere '■'■ raisonnement^^'' intelli- 
gent or unintelligent intuitions are out of the question; instead 
of these we have an investigation conducted by logical philo- 
sophy in the department of those human achievements [which 
constitute History] . The categories have been already de- 
monstrated in other branches of the System, and the only 
point left to be determined is, whether they will be able also 
to verify themselves in the apparently intractable element of 
human caprice. But in order that this proceeding may 
bring with it a guarantee of its correctness, and I might 
also say, of its honesty, the occurrences themselves are not 
metamorphosed by Thought, exhibited as otherwise than they 
really are, or in any way altered. The facts remain as they 
were — as they appear in the historical traditions of centuries: 
the Idea is their expositor, not their perverter ; and while 
the Philosophy of History thus involves nothing more than 
the comprehension of the hidden meaning of the outward 
phenomenon, the philosophical art will consist in perceiving 
in what part of these phenomenal data a ganglion of Ideas 
lies, which must be announced and demonstrated as such ; 
and, as in Nature every straw, every animal, every stone 
cannot be deduced from general principles, so the art in 
question will also discern where it should rise to the full 
height of speculation, or where, as remarked above, it may 
be content to lose itself in the confines of the merely super- 
ficial ; it will know what is demonstrable, and what is simply 
attached to the demonstration as portraiture and charac- 
teristics ; conscious of its dignity and power, it will not be 
content to expend its labour on indifferent circumstances. 

This is in fact one of the chief merits of the present 
Lectures, that with all the speculative vigour which they 
display, they nevertheless concede their due to the Empirical 
and Phenomenal ; that they equally repudiate a subjective 
raison?iement [a discussion following the mere play of in- 



THE FIBST EDITION". XU 

dividual fancy,] and the forcing of all historical data into 
the mould of a formula ; that they seize and present the 
Idea both in logical development and in the apparently loose 
and irregular course of historical narrative, but yet without 
allowing this process to appear obtrusively in the latter. 
The so-called a priori method — which is, in fact, presumed 
to consist in ' making up ' history without the aid of his- 
torical facts — is therefore altogether different from what is 
presented here ; the author had no intention to assume the 
character of a Grod, and to create History, but simply that 
of a man, addressing himself to consider that History which, 
replete with reason and rich with ideas, had already been 
created. 

The character of Lectures gives the work an additional 
advantage, which it would perhaps have wanted had it been 
composed at the outset with a view to publication as a book, 
and with the compact energy and systematic seriousness 
which such a design would have involved. Consisting o^^ 
lectures, it must contemplate an immediate apprehension 
of its ' meaning ;' it must be intended to excite the in- 
terest of youthful hearers, and associate what is to be pre- 
sented to their attention with what they already know. 
And as of all the materials that can be subjected to philo- 
sophic treatment. History is always the one with whose 
subject persons of comparatively youthful years become ear- 
liest acquainted, the Fhilosophy of History may also be 
expected to connect itself with what was previously known, 
and not teach the subject itself as well as the ideas it 
embodies, (as is the case, e.g. in Esthetics,) but rather 
confine itself to exhibiting the workings of the Idea in a 
material to which the hearer is supposed to be no stranger. 
If this be done in a method partly constructive, partly 
merely characteristic, the advantage will be secured of pre- 
senting to the student a readable work — one which has 
affinities with ordinary intelligence, or at least is not very 



much removed from it. These Lectures therefore — and 
the remark is made without fear of contradiction— would 
form the readiest introduction to the Hegelian Philosophy : 
they are even more adapted to the purpose than the " Phi- 
losophy of E/ight," [or Law,] which certainly presupposes 
in the student some ideas of its subject to begin with. But 



< 



XX PEEFACE TO 

the advantages of the Lecture form are not unaccompanied 
by the usual drawbacks in the present case. The necessity 
of developing principles at the commencement, of embra- 
cing the entire subject, and of- concluding vrithin definite 
limits, must occasion an incongruity between the first and 
the latter part of the work. The opulence of facts which 
the Middle Ages offer us, and the wealth of ideas that cha- 
racterizes the Modern Time, may possibly induce dissatis- 
faction at the attention which, simply because it is the 
beginning, is devoted to the East. 

This naturally leads us to the principles which have been 
adopted in the composition of the work in its present dress ; 
as they concern, first, its contents, and secondly, its form. 
In a lecture, the teacher endeavours to individualize his 
knowledge and acquisitions : by the momentum of oral de- 
livery he breathes a life into his intellectual materials which 

mere book cannot possess. Not only are digressions, 
amplifications, repetitions, and the introduction of analogies 
which are but distantly connected with the main subject, 
in place in every lecture, but without these ingredients an 
oral discourse would be dry and lifeless. That Hegel pos- 
sessed this didactic gift, notwithstanding all prejudices to 
the contrary, might be proved by his manuscripts alone, 
which by no means contain the whole of what was actually 
delivered, as also by the numerous changes and transforma- 
tions that mark the successive resumptions of an old course 
of lectures. The illustrations were not unfrequently dispro- 
portioned to the speculative matter ; the beginning (and 
simply because it was such) was so greatly expanded, that 
if all the narrative sections, descriptions, and anecdotes had 
been inserted, essential detriment would have resulted to 
the appearance of the book. In the first delivery of his lec- 
tures on the Philosophy of History, Hegel devoted a full 
third of his time to the Introduction and to China — a part 
of the work which was elaborated with wearisome prolixity. 
xHthough in subsequent deliveries he was less circumstantial 
in regard to this Empire, the editor was obliged to reduce 
the description to such proportions as would prevent the 
Chinese section from encroaching upon, and consequently 
prejudicing the treatment of, the other parts of the work. 
That kind of editorial labour which was most called for in 



THE FIRST EDITION. XXI 

this part was necessary in a less degree in all the other 
divisions. The Editor had to present Lectures in the form 
of a Book : he was obliged to turn oral discourse into read- 
able matter : the notes of students . and the manuscripts 
which constituted his materials were of different dates ; he 
had to undertake the task of abridging the diffuseness of 
delivery, bringing the narrative matter into harmony with 
the speculative observations of the author, taking due pre- 
cautions that the later lectures should not be thrust into a 
corner by the earlier ones, and that the earlier ones should 
be freed from that aspect of isolation and disconnection 
which they presented. On the other hand, he was bound 
not to forget for one moment that the book contained lec- 
tures ; the naivete, the abandon, the enthusiastic absorption 
in the immediate subject which makes the speaker indifferent 
as to when or how he shall finish, had to be left intact ; and 
even frequent repetitions, where they did not too much in- 
terrupt the course of thought, or weary the reader, could 
not be altogether obliterated. 

But notwithstanding the full measure of license, which in 
the nature of the case must be conceded to the Editor, and 
the reconstructive duties imposed upon him by compilation, 
it can be honestly averred that in no case have the ideas of 
the compiler been substituted for those of Hegel, — that a 
genuine, altogether unadulterated work of the great phi- 
losopher is here offered to the reader, and that, if the editor 
had followed another plan, no choice would have been left him 
but either to produce a book which none could have enjoyed, 
or, on the other hand, to insert too much of his own in place 
of the materials that lay before him. 

As regards the style of the work, it must be observed that 
the Editor was obliged to write it out from beginning to 
end. Eor one part of the Introduction however, (as far 
as p. 61 of this book) he had ready to hand an elaboration 
begun by Hegel in 1830, which though it was not designed 
expressly for publication, was manifestly intended to take 
the place of earlier Introductions. The Editor — though all 
his friends "did not adopt his view of the matter — believed 
that where a Hegelian torso was in existence, he ought to 
refrain from all interpolations of his own and from revisional 
alterations. He was desirous not to weaken the firm 



> 



XXU PEEFACE TO 

phalanx of the Hegelian style by introducing phrases of 
any other stamp or order, even at the risk of being thus 
obliged to forego a certain unity of expression. He thought 
that it could not be otherwise than gratifying to the reader 
to encounter — at least through some part of the book — the 
strong, pithy and sometimes gnarled style of the author ; 
he wished to afford him the pleasure of pursuing the laby- 
rinthine windings of thought under the guidance of his often 
less than flexible but always safe and energetic hand. From 
the point at which these elaborated fragments ceased, began 
the real task of giving the work an integral form ; but 
this was performed with constant regard for the peculiar 
terms of expression which the manuscripts and notes ex- 
hibited : the Editor gladly exchanged the words which offered 
themselves to his own pen for others which he would per- 
haps not have preferred himself, but which seemed to him 
more characteristic of the author ; only where it was ab- 
solutely necessary has he been willing to complete, to fill 
up, to supplement ; in short he has been anxious as far as 
possible to make no sort of change in the peculiar type of 
the composition, and to offer to the public not a book of his 
own but that of another. The Editor cannot therefore be- 
come responsible for its expression, as if it were his own ; 
he had to present a material and trains of thought not his 
own, and as for as possible to avoid travelling far out of the 
limits of that order of phrases in which they were originally 
clothed. Only within these given and predetermined con- 
ditions, which are at the same time impediments to a free 
style, can the Editor be made accountable. 

Hegel's manuscripts were the first materials to which the 
Editor had recourse. These often contain only single words 
and names connected by dashes, evidently intended to aid 
the memory in teaching ; then again longer sentences, and 
sometimes a page or more fully written out. Erom this 
latter part of the manuscript could be taken many a striking 
expression, many an energetic epithet : the hearers' notes 
M^ere corrected and supplemented by it, and it is surprising 
with what unwearied perseverance the author continually 
returns to former trains of thought. Hegel appears in 
these memorials as the most diligent and careful teacher, 
always intent upon deepening fugitive impressions, and 



THE FIRST EDITION". XXlll 

clencMiLg wbat might pass away from the mind, with the! 
strong rivets of the Idea. As regards the second part ofj 
my materials, the notes, I have had such — reporting all the 
five deliveries of this course, 18|f, 18|f , ISff, 18|^, 18f f * 
— in the hand- writing of Geh. Ober-E-egierungs Rath 
Schulze, Capt. von Grriesheim, Prof Hotho, Dr. Werder, 
Dr. Heimann, and the sou of the philosopher, M. Charles 
Hegel. It was not till the session of 18|^ that Hegel came 
to treat somewhat more largely of the Middle Ages and the 
Modern Time, and the sections of the present work devoted 
to those periods are for the most part taken from this last 
delivery of the course. To many of my respected colleagues 
and friends, whom I would gladly name if I might presume 
upon their permission to do so, I am indebted for emenda- 
tions, additions, and assistance of every kind. "Without such 
aids, the book would be much less complete as regards the 
historical illustration of principles than it may perhaps be 
deemed at present. 

"With this publication of the " Philosophy of History," that 
of the " ^sthetik " within a few months, and that of the 
"Encyclopadie" in its new form and style, which will not have 
long to be waited for, the work of editing and publishing 
Hegel's writicgs will be completed. Por our Priend and 
Teacher it will be a monument of fame ; for the editors a 
memorial of piety, whose worth and truth consist not in 
womanish lamentation, but in a grief that is only a stimulus 
to renewed activity. On the other hand that piety desires 
no return but the satisfaction which it already possesses in 
the consciousness of the performance of duty ; and though 
those who are " dead while they live" may think to reproach 
us with the feebleness of our means, we may hope for abso- 
lution in consideration of the plenitude of our zeal. The 
Hegelian Pour Ages of the World have at least made their 
appearance. 

Edward Gtans. 

Berlin, June 8, 1837. 

* These lefctures were delivered in the University of Berlin, to which 
He^el was called in 1818. " He there lectured for thirteen years, and 
formed a school, of which it is suflBcient to name as among- its members, 
Gans, Rosenkranz, Michelet, Werder, Marheineke and Hotho." Lewi^s's 
Biog, Hist, of Philos.—Ta. 



XXIV 



PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 

The changed form in which Hegel's lectures on the Phi- 
losophy of ilistory are re-issued, suggests the necessity of 
some explanation respecting the relation of this second edi- 
tion both to the original materials from which the work was 
compiled, and to their first publication. 

The lamented Professor Gans, the editor of the " Philo- 
sophy of History," displayed a talented ingenuity in trans- 
forming Lectures into a Book ; in doing so he followed for 
the most part Hegel's latest deliveries of the course, because 
they w^ere the most popular, and appeared most adapted to 
his object. 

He succeeded in presenting the lectures much as they 
were delivered in the winter of 18-|J ; and this result might 
be regarded as perfectly satisfactory, if Hegel's various read- 
ings of the course had been more uniform and concordant, 
if indeed they had not rather been of such a nature as to 
supplement each other. Eor however great may have been 
Hegel's power of condensing the wide extent of the pheno- 
menal world by Thought, it was impossible for him entirely 
to master and to present in an uniform shape the immea- 
surable material of History in the course of one semester. 
In the first delivery in the winter of 18|f , he was chiefly 
occupied with unfolding the philosophical Idea, and shewiag 
how this constitutes the real kernel of History, and the im- 
pelling Soul of World-Historical Peoples. In proceeding to 
treat of China and India, he wished, as he said himself, only 
to shew by example how philosophy ought to comprehend 
the character of a nation ; and this could be done more easily 
m the case of the stationary nations of the East, than in that 
of peoples which have a bond fide history and an historical 
development of character. A warm predilection made him 
linger long with the Greeks, for whom he always felt a 
youthful enthusiasm ; and after a brief consideration of the 
Eoman World he endeavoured finally to condense the 
Mediaeval Period and the Modern Time into a few lectures ; 
for time pressed, and when, as in the Christian World, the 
Thought no longer lies concealed among the multitude of 
phenomena, but announces itself and is obviously present in 
History, the philosopher is at liberty to abridge his discus- 



PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITIOBf. XXT 

sion of it ; in fact, nothing more is needed than to indicate 
the impelling Idea. In the later readings, on the other hand, 
China, India, and the East generally were more speedily 
dispatched, and more time and attention devoted to the 
G-erman World. By degrees the Philosophical and Abstract 
occupied less space, the historical matter was expanded, and 
the whole became more popular. 

It is easy to see how the different readings of the course ^ 
supplement each other, and how the entire substance cannot 
be gathered without uniting the philosophical element which 
predominates in the earlier, and which must constitute the 
basis of the work, with the historical expansion which cha- 
racterizes the latest deliveries. 

Had Hegel pursued the plan which most professors adopt, < 
in adapting notes for use in the lecture room, of merely 
appending emendations and additions to the original draught, 
it would be correct to suppose that his latest readings would 
be also the most matured. But as, on the contrary, every 
delivery was with him a new act of thought, each gives only 
the expression of that degree of philosophical energy which 
animate his mind at the time ; thus, in fact, the two first 
deliveries of ISff and 18|^, exhibit a far more com- 
prehensive vigour of idea and expression, a far richer store 
of striking thoughts and appropriate images, than those of 
later date ; for that first inspiration which accompanied the 
thoughts when they first sprang into existence, could only 
lose its living freshness by repetition. 

From what has been said, the nature of the task which a 
new edition involved is sufficiently manifest. A treasury!^ 
of thought of no trifling value had to be recovered from the | 
first readings, and the tone of originality restored to the 
whole. The printed text therefore was made the basis, 
and the work of inserting, supplementing, substituting, 
and transforming, (as the case seemed to require,) was 
undertaken with the greatest possible respect for the 
original. No scope was left for the individual views of the 
Editor, since in all such alterations Hegel's manuscripts 
were the sole guide. Eor while the first publication of these 
lectures — a part of the Introduction excepted — followed the 
notes of the hearers only, the second edition has endeavoured 
to supplement it by making Hegel's own manuscripts the 

e 



XIVl 



PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. 






basis throughout, and using the notes only for the purpose 
of rectification and arrangement. The editor has striven 
after uniformity of tone through the whole woric simply by 
allowing the author to speak everywhere in his own words ; 
so that not only are the new insertions taken verbatim from 
the manuscripts, but even where the printed text was re- 
tained in the main, peculiar expressions which the hearer had 
lost in transcription, were restored. 

. For the benefit of those who place vigour of thought in a 
formal schematism, and with polemical zeal assert its exclu- 
sive claim against other styles of philosophizing, the remark 
may be added that Hegel adhered so little to the subdivisions 
w^hich he had adopted, that he made some alterations in 
Jiem on occasion of every reading of the course — treated 
. Buddhism and Lamaism, e. g., sometimes before, sometimes 

''/' J%>^ #■ after India, sometimes reduced the Christian World more 
^ closely to the German nations, sometimes took in the By- 

zantine Empire, and so on. a. The new edition has had but 
few alterations to make in tins respect. 

When the association for publishing HegeFs works did 

me the honour to entrust me with the re-editing of my 

(fc^yi^i^^Bi' Father's Philosophy of History, it also named as advocates 

*MA.j/td£lJ^S ^^^ claims of the first edition, and as representatives of 

^ y>. Prof. Grans, who had been removed from its circle by 

^4Pi^ ^^' death, three of its members, Geh. Ober-Eegierungs Eath 

/ _^-^^- Schulze, Prof, von Henuing, and Prof. Hotho, to whose 

iKft-^f revision the work in its new shape was to be submitted. In 

£l^^ /"^-i^bis revision, I not only enjoyed the acquiescence of those 

J J * most estimable men and valued friends in the alterations I 

//^*X*^**vhad made, but also owe them a debt of thanks for many 

^-^J new emendations, which I take the opportunity of thus pub- 

M«t '^y / licly discharging. 

, Jjt^ CVrtv% In conclusion, I feel constrained to acknowledge that my 
f f>- i,i ^gratitude to that highly respected association for the praise- 
-otT U^Vs^^^QY:t\ij deed of love to science, friendship, and disinterested- 
j^«/t4^jL*^jiess, whose prosecution originated it and still holds it 
^T^-v <,-/T;ogether, could be increased only by the fact of its having 
r t I f granted me also a share in editing the works of my beloved 



Father. 



Chaeles Hegei:. 



' JJerUn, May 16, 1840. /• //-V 






V^H^ 



l/Kiuvf- 



CONTENTS. 



Translator's Preface . . . . iii 

Preface to the First Edition, by Dr. E. Gans . xii 

Preface to the Second Edition by Dr. C. Hegel . xxiv 

Introduction. Various methods of treating History: Original, Re- 
flective and Philosophical. I. Original History: Herodotus, Thu- 
cydides, Xenophon, Caesar, Guicciardini, p. 1-4. II. Reflective 
History. (1) General or Universal History. Livy, Diodorus Siculus, 
Johannes von Miiller. {2) Pragmatical HiMory. (3) Critical History 
— the German method of modern times. (4) The History of special 
departments of life and tliouglit — of Art, Law, and Religion, 4-8. 
III. Philosophical History. Reason, the Infinite material and the 
Infinite Formative Power of the Universe, 8-12. — Anaxagoras's dictum, 
that vovQ or Reason governs the world, 12-17. — The Destiny or Final 
Cause of the World. History, the Development of Spirit, or 
the Realization of its Idea, 17- (1 ) The abstract characteristics of 
the Nature of Spirit — Spirit the antithesis of Matter — Self-Contained * 
Existence, whose essential characteristic is Freedom, 18 — Successive 
stages in the appreciation of the inalienable Freedom of the Human 
Spirit: The Oriental Worl^ knows only that One is Free : The Greeks 
and Romans recognize Some as free. The German Nations under the 
influence of Christianity, have attained the knowledge that A II are 
Free, 19. The Final Cause of the World is the realization of its own 
freedom by Spirit, 20. (2) The means by which this consciousness is 
developed — human activity originally stuntdated by desires and 
passions, but in which higher principles are implicit, resulting in the 
State, 21. In the State these universal principles are harmonized 
with subjective and particular aims, and the passions of individuals 
result in the restraints of law and political order, 22-30. — Great Men 
the founders of political organizations in which this Harmony is 
realized, 30. Standard by which Great Men are to be judged, 31, 32. 
Heroes and Valets, 33. The cunning of Reason, 34. Claims of 
religion and morality absolute, 35. Ideals, under what conditions re- 
alized, 30, 37 . The true Ideal, that of Reason, always tending to realize 
itself, 38. (3) The object to be attained by the processes of History — 
the union of the Subjective with the Objective Will in the State, 40. 
Idea of the State — its abstract basis referred to the Philosophy of 
Jurisprudence or Right, 41. Erroneous views confuted. — Man is not 
free in a merely natural condition, 42. The Patriarchal principle not 
the only legitiinate basis of government, 43. Only a transitional one, 
44. The consent of all the members of the community not necessary 
to a legitimate government, 4.5. Question of the best Constitution, 46. 
Constitution of a (country not the result of deliberate choice, but of 
the genius of a people, 47. Successive phases of government — Primi- 



IXVm CONTENTS. 

tive Monarchy, Aristocracy, Democracy, and Constitutional Royalty, 
48. Political idiosyncrasies, 49. Connection of Religion, Art, and 
Philosophy with the State, 51-56. The course of the World's History, 
56. Natural and Spiritual Development contrasted, 57. Historj 
exhibits the gradations in the consciousness of Freedom, 58, 59. 
Fiction of a Golden Age. Frederick von Schlegel's theory. Re- 
searches in Oriental literature stimulated by this fallacious view, 60, 61. 
Conditions essential to History — Intiniate relation between legal and 
political organizations and the rise of Historical literature, 62, 63. 
Contrast between India and China in this respect, 64. Ante- Historical 
period — the growth of Peoples and of Languages, 65, Dialectical 
nature of the Idea, 66. Empirical objections, 67. Reason and Un- 
derstanding, 68. Distinctions in Nation;il Genius, in Poetry, Philo- 
sophy, &c., ignored, 69-74. Prima facie aspect of History — Mutability 
of Human Things — Metempsychosis— The Phoenix, 75, 76. Activity 
characteristic of Spirit — 'Nations are what their deeds are, illustrated 
in the case of England — Culmination, Decline and Fall of Nations, 
77, 78. Chronos and Zeus, 79. Spirit expands beyond the limits of 
each successive nationality and annuls it, 80. Summary, 81, 82. 

Geographical Basis of History, 

Influence of Nature on Historical Development— Should not be rated 
too high nor too low, 83. The Temperate Zone the true theatre of 
History, 84. Division of the World into Old and New — Physical 
immaturity of Australia — South Americans physically and psychically 
inferior, 84, 85. Modern Emigration and its Mediaeval analogies, 86. 
South and North America— Catholicism and Protestantism, 87. Puri- 
tan colonization and industrial tendencies in their bearing on the cha- 
racter of the United States — Multiplication of Religious Sects— Neces- 
sity of consolidated political organization not felt in North America, 

89. Relation of the United States to neighbouring countries different 
from that of European nations — America as the echo of the Past or 
the Land of the Future, has little interest for the Philosophy of History, 

90. The Old World; its ancient limitations. The Mediterranean 
Sea, the centre of World-History, 91. Special Geographical distinc- 
tions: (1) The Uplands — Mongolia, the Deserts of Arabia, &c., 92. 

(2) The Valley Plains — China. India, Babylonia, Egypt. In such 
regions great Kingdoms have originated, 93. (3) The coast land — 
Intluence of the Sea, 94. Classification of the three portions of the 
Old World according to the predominant physical features. — Africa, 
(1) Africa Proper, (2) European Africa— the coast-land on the North, 

(3) the Valley Land of the Nile, connected with Asia, 95, 96. Afri- 
can type of character, 97. Sorcery and Fetish -worship, 98. Worship 
of the Dead - Contempt for Humanity — Tyranny and Cannibalism, 
99. Slavery, 100. Political condition of Africans, 101. Frenzy in 
war, 102. The merely Natural condition which African character ex- 
hibits is one of absolute injustice — Africa dismissed from further con- 
sideration as lying only on the threshold of History, 103. Asia. Si- 
beria eliminated as out of the pale of History. (1) Central Upland of 



CONTENTS* XXIX 

Asia. (2) Vast Valley-Plains of China, India, the lands of the Tigris 
and Euphrates, &c. (3) The intermixture of these physical features 
in Hither or Anterior Asia — Syria, Asia Minor, &c., 104, 105. Eu- 
rope. Physical features less marked than those of Africa and Asia. 

(1) Southern Europe — Greece, Italy, South Eastern France, &c. 

(2) The heart of Europe — France, Germany, and England. (3) The 
North Eastern States— Poland, Kussia, the Slavonic Kingdoms, 106. 
107. 

Classification of Historic Data. 

The course of History symbolized by that of Light, 109. Begins with 
the East — Gradual development of the consciousness of Freedom, 110. 
Oriental Empires, 1 1 J . Invasion of Tartar hordes — Prosaic Empire 
of China, India, &c. — Persian Empire of Light— Transition to Greece, 
112, Greece, the Kingdom of Beautiful Freedom — the Youth, as Rome 
is the Manhood of History, 113. Claims of Personality formally recog- 
nized — Crushing influence of Rome on individual and national genius, 
114. Christianity and the German World — Mahometanism, 11,5. 
The Church — Its Corruption— The Ideal of Reason realized in Secular 
life — The emancipation of Spirit, 116. 

Part I. The Oriental World. 

Principle of the Oriental World, the Substantial, the Prescriptive in 
Morality — Government only the prerogative of compulsion, 116, 
117, With China and the Mongols — the realm of theocratic despotism 
— History begins. — India, 118. Persia — the symbol of whose empire 
is Light, 1 19. Syria and Judsea. Egypt— the transition to Greece, 120. 

Section 1. China. 

Substantiality of the principle on which the Chinese Empire is based, 

121. Antiquity of Chinese traditions and records — Canonical books, 

122. Population— Complete political organization, 123. Fohi, the 
reputed founder of Chinese civilization— Successive dynasties and ca- 
pital cities, 124. Shi-hoang-ti — His Great Wall, and Book-burning, 
Tartars; Mantchoo dynasty, 12.5. Spirit of the political and social 
life of China — The principle of the Family that of the Chinese State, 
126 Relative duties strictly enforced by law, 127, Merits of Sons 
'imputed ' to their Fathers — ■' Hall of Ancestors," 128, The Empe- 
ror is the Patriarch - the supreme authority in matters of religion and 
science as well as government — His will, however, controlled by an- 
cient maxims — Education of Pinnces, 129. Administration of the 
Empire, 130. Learned and Military Mandarins — Examinations for 
official posts— The Romance, Ju-Kiao-li, 131. The Censors — In- 
stances of their upright discharge of duty, 132. The Emperor the 
active soul of the Empire, 133. Jurisprudence -Subjects regarded as 
in a state of nonage— Chastisements chiefly corporal — corrective, not 
retriliwive, 134. Severe punishment of the contravention of relative 
duties --No distinction between malice prcpevse and accidental injury: 
* cause of dispute between the English and Chinese, 135. Revenge 



XXX CONTEIfTS. 

an occasion of suicide — Serfdom, 136. Great immorality of the Chi- 
ncse — The Religion of Fo, which regards God as Pure Southing, 137. 
Eeligious side of Chinese polity — Relation of the Emperor to Religion 
— Controversy in the Catholic Church respecting the Chinese name of 
God, 138. Genii— Bonzes, 139. Chinese Science, 140. Written 
distinguished from Spoken Language — Leibnitz's opinion on the ad- 
vantage of the separation, 141. Obstacles presented by this system to 
the advance of Knowledge. — Chinese History, Jurisprudence, Ethics 
and Philosophy, 142. Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy — Ac- 
quaintance with the Art of Printing, 143. Chinese painting, working 
of metals, &c. — Summary of Chinese character, 144. 

Section IL India. 

India the region of phantasy and sensibility, contrasted with China, 145. 
India presents us with Spirit in a state of Dream — Analogy to certain 
phases of female beauty, 146. Indian Pantheism, that oi Tmaginatmi 
not of Thought — Deiiication of finite existence, 147. Extensive rela- 
tions of India to the History of the World— Sanscrit, 148. India the 
Land of Desire to Conquerors : Alexander — Conquests of the English — 
Topographical divisions, 149, 1.50. Political life — Castes, &c. 151-154, 
Bi-ahm ; the Brahmins ; the Yogis, 155. Religious suicide, .156. 
Brahmins are by birth, present deities, 157. Observances binding on 
Brahmins, 1 ".8. Brahminical dignity and prerogatives, 159. DiflScul- 
ties experienced by the English in enlisting native troops, 1 60. Rights of 
property in land not clearly ascertainable — Evasion of land tax imposed 
by the English, 161. Hindoo Mythology, 162. Brahm, the pure Unity 
of Thought, or God in incomplexity of existence — Analogies to religion 
of Fo, 163. Avatars or Incarnations — Vishnu, Siva, and ^Nlahadeva — 
Setisual side of Hindoo worship, 164. Immorality of Hindoo character 
accounted for, 165. Art and Science — Exaggerated estimate of intel- 
lectual culture and scientific attainments, 166. The Vedas, the epic 
poems, Ramayai-.a and Mahabharata — The Puranas and the Code of 
Manu, 167. The Hindoo State, 168. History, properly speaking, 
non-existent among the Hindoos, 169. Confusion of imagination with 
fact, 170. Absurd chronology and cosmogonies— Colebrooke's re- 
searches, 171. Deception practised by Brahmins on Captain Wilford 
— Vicramaditya and Calidasa, 172. State in which Europeans found 
India — Not a degeneracy from a superior political condition, 173. 
Summary of Hindoo character, 174. 

Section II. Continued. India — Buddhism. 
Distinction of Buddhism from Hindoo conceptions, 175. Buddhism 
supplements the spiritual deficiencies of the Chinese principle. Analysis 
of Buddhism — Connection of its leading conception with the doctrine 
of ^Metempsychosis, 176. Incarnations of abstract Deity in departed 
teachers, Buddha, Gautama, and Eoe, and in the Grand Lama, 177. 
The three Lamas — The individual as such is not the object of worship 
but the principle of which he is the incarnation, 178. Education and 
personal character of the Lamas, The Shamans, 179. Government 
administered by a Vizier, 180. 



CONTENTS. XXX] 

Section III. Persia. 

Nations of Hither Asia belong to the Caucasian race. Greater similarity 
to Europeans. The Persians the first World- historical people. Zo- 
roaster and the principle of 'Light,' 180. Explanation of that principle, 
181, 182. Topographical divisions, 183. 
Chapter I. The Zend People.— The Zend Books— the canonical books 
of the ancient Parsees. Anquetil du Perron's researches— Bactriana 
probably the original seat of the Zend people, 184. The doctrine of 
Zoroaster, 185. Light and J)2ix\i.nQ.&^—Ormuzda7iciAhnmun. Zer- 
uane-Akerene, 186. Moral requirements, 187. Eitual_Observances, 
188. Cyrus and the river Gyndes, 189. ' 

Chapter II. The Assyrians, Babylonians, Medes, and Persians.— 
Element of wealth, luxury and commerce in these nations— The ' Shah- 
nameh.' Contest of Iran and Turan— Perversion of historical facts, 
189 190. Babylon, 191, 192. T/?^ i¥(?^e5— Magi, closely connected 
withJhe-Zend reHgion— The Assyrian-BabylonlanEEpire, 1 93. The 
Pemaw»— Cyrus— Lydia and the Greek colonies, 194. 
Chapter IIL The Persian Ei^ipire and its constituent parts. 
—The Persian Empire comprehends the three geographical elements 
noticed p. 92— the Uplands of Persia and Media, the Valleij- Flams of 
the Euphrates, Tigris, and Nile, and the Coast- Region, Syria and 
Phenicia, 195. Persians, 196. Nomadic character of their mihtary 
expeditions, 197. Nobility, court, and political constitution of Persia, 
198 Si/ria and Semitic Western J.^«— Syrian and Phcenician cul- 
ture commerce, and inventions, 199 Idolatry of Syria, Phrygia, &c. 
—Worship of thaUniversal Power of Nature, Astarte, Cybele, or 
Diana, 200. Bond of religion lars.—Phcenicians—B.ercu\es worshipped 
at Tyre— Real import of the myths attached to Hercules, 201. Ado- 
nis Pain an element of worship, 202. Judaa. Jewish idea of God, 
203 Spirit in opposition to Nature, 204. Advantages and deficien- 
cies attaching to the Jewish stand-point, 205, 206. JEgypt Union 
of the elements of the Persian Empire— The Sphinx, 207 - Egypt the 
Land of Marvels— Herodotus, Manetho, 208. Young and Champol- 
lion's investigations into the Hieroglyphic language, 209. History 
209—212. Genius of the EgjT)tians • Division into Castes —less rigid 
than among the Hindoos, 213. Customs, Laws, scientific and practi- 
cal skill of Egypt, 214. Indifference to politics on the part of the 
inferior castes. Beligion— Series of natural phenomena determined 
by the Sun and the Nile— Osms, the Sun, the Nile; Isis, the Earth- 
Parallelism with human life. Mutual symbolism— Egyptian Hermes, 
Anubis (Thoth), the spiritual side of Egyptian theism, 215-220. nor- 
ship chiefly Zoolatry— The Worship of bmtes may involve a more intel- 
ligent creed than that of the "Host of Heaven." Apis, 220, 221. Tran- 
sition from Egyptian to Greek statuary art, the former giving definite 
•expression by the heads and masks of brutes, Anubis, e. g., with 
dog's head, &c. The Problem which the Egyptian Spirit proposes lo 
itself 222, 223. Hieroglyphs- Catacombs— The Pyramids— The 
Realm of the Dead. The Egyptians the first to conceive of the souJ 



XXXll CONTENTS. 

as immortal — Metempsychosis, 2-j5. The dead body an object of care 
in consequence of belief in immortality — Mummies, 226. Judgment 
on the Dead — Death with the Egyptians a stimulus to enjoy Life. 
227. The Human and Divine united in some symbolic representa- 
tions — Summary of the startling contrasts exhibited m Egyptian cha- 
racter — Herodotus's Egyptian tales, similar to the Thousand and One 
Nights, which may be partly traced to Egypt — Vo7i Hammer's 
opinion. Transition to the Greek World. The Egyptians 
as compared with the Greeks, present boyhood contrasted with^^oM^/t, 
229. The inscriptions at Sais and Delphi compared — CEuIpus and 
the Sphinx, 230. Historical transition from Egypt to Greece me- 
diated by the fall of the Persian Empire — Decline and fall of the 
great Empires— Prejudice in favour of duration as compared with 
transiency. Summary of characteristics of the Persian Empire and 
its dependencies, 231, 232. 

Part II. The Greek World. 

Among the Greeks we feel ourselves at home— True Palingenesis of 
Spirit, 232. Homer, Achilles, Alexander— Three periods in Greek 
History — Growth, Contests with the Persians, and Decline, 233. 

Section I. The Elements of the Greek Spirit. 

Tlie Greek Spirit characterized— Geographical peculiarities of Hellas, 
:>34. The Greeks a mixed race, 235. Various stocks from which 
the population of Greece was derived, 236. Influence of the Sea — 
Piracy — Minos. Rudiments of Greek civilization connected with the 
advent of foreigners. States founded by foreigners, 237. Cecrops, 
Danaus, Cadmus — Cyclopian fortresses, 238. Royalty in the earliest 
period of Greece, and relation of Ivings to subjects, 239. The Trojan 
^Var, 240. Extinction of the royal houses — Position of the Actors 
and the Chorus in Tragedy analogous to that of Kings and peoples in 
early Greek history, 241. Rise of the Greek cities — Colonization, 
242. Influence of the topographical features of Greece on the culture 
of its inhabitants— Specific character of Greek worship of Nature, 243. - 
Greek view of Nature — Pan, 244. Oiigin of the Muses - MajTif-ftrt," 

245. Oracles, the Delphic priestesses; and the Cave of Trophonius, 

246. Question of the foreign or indigenous origin of Greek mytholo- 
gical conceptions, 247. The jMysteries — Summary of the Elements 
of the Greek Spirit— The Greek character is Individuality conditioned 
by Beauty, 248. Philosophical import of Art, 249. 

Section II. Phases of Individuality ^sthetically 
conditioned. 

Chapter I. The Subjective Work op Art. — Adaptation of Nature 
to purposes of utility and ornament, 250. Development of the human 
body itself as the organ of the Soul, and as a medium for the expreg- 
sion of beauty, 251. Olympic and other public games. Philosophical 
import of sports of this kind, 252. 



CONTENTS. XXXIU 

Chapter II. The Objective Work oe Art.— The Greek Gods are 
Individualities, objectively beautiful, 253. The overthrow of the 
Titans — its philosophical import. Eelation of the new dynasty of 
gods to the powers of Nature, 254. Advance from the Sensuous to 
the Spiiitual — Greek divinities not abstractions, 255. The adven- 
titious element in the Greek mythology — Local divinities, 256. Ra- 
tional estimate of the " Mysteries," 258. Anthropomorphism of Greek 
mythology no disparagement, but the contrary — The Christian con- 
ception of God stiU more anthropomorphic, and therefore more ade- 
quate, 258. Distinction between Greek and Christian incarnations 
of deity, 259, Fate and Oracles, 260. 

Chapter III. The Political Work of Art. —Democracy adapted to 
the grade of development occupied by the Greeks, 260. The Seven 
Sages, practical politicians. Solon— Athenian Democracy. Montes- 
quieu's remark on Democracy. Law with the Greeks is Customary 
Morality, 261. Immanent Objective Morahty essential to the healthy 
working of a Democratic constitution, 262. Patriotic sentiment of the 
Greeks — Not an enthusiasm for an abstract principle. Sophists intro- 
duced subjective reHection, which led to the decline of national life, 
263. Great men as legislators and statesmen enjoyed the confidence 
of the people during the prosperous times of Greece — Greek Demo- 
cracy connected with Oracles, 264. Slavery another characteristic of 
the Greek polity — Democratical constitutions attached to small states, 
often to single cities of no great extent — The French Democracy con- 
stituted no vital and concrete unity, but a mere Paper World, 265-6. 
The War with the Persians. Summary view of the struggle, 267. 
Victories of the Greeks and the undying interest attached to them — 
Athens and Sparta, 268. Athens. Mixed population — Solonian 
Constitution — Pisistratus, 269. Advance of the Democratic principle 
— ^Pericles, 270. Free play for the development of individual charac- 
ter at Athens, resulting in a noble intellectual and artistic develop- 
ment, 271. Funeral oration of Pericles. 272. Sparta. Early stages 
of its development very different from those of Athenian history. 
Dorian invasion — Subjugation of the Helots. The Lycurgian Consti- 
tution, 273-4. Defects of Spartan culture. — Standpoint of the Greek 
Spirit, 275. The Peloponnedau War. Isolation of the Greek states. 
The Athenian Hegemony — Struggle between Athens and Sparta, 
277. Spartan oppression — Temporary preponderance of Thebes — 
Subjectivity characteristic oi Theban character, 278. Cause of the 
decay of the Greek World, 279. The Sophists, 280. Socrates the 
Inventor of Morality. — Established an Ideal world alien to the Real 
one, 281. Condemnation of Socrates, its interest in connection with 
the decay of the Greek World. Aristophanes— Decline of Athens 
and that of Sparta contrasted, 282. 

The Macedonian Umpire. The Insult to the Delphian Apollo destroys 
the last support of unity in Greece— Establishment of a real authori- 
tative royalty by Philip. Alexander's inherited advantages, 283. 
His education — invasion of the East — early death — Extent and im- 
portance of his empire, 284. Alexandria a centre of Science and Art 
— the point of union for Eastern and Western culture, 286. 



XXXIV CONTENTS. 



Section III. Fall of the Greek Spirit. 

Intellectual vitality still preserved to some extent in Athens — Eelations 
of Greek States to foreign powers— Achcean league — Attempts of Agis 
and Cleomenes, Aratus and Philopoemen to resuscitate Greece. Con- 
tact with the Romans, 286-9. 

Part III. The Roman World. 

Napoleon's obseri'ation, " La politique est la fatalite." The Roman 
World the crushing Destiny that aimed to destroy all concrete life in 
states and individuals, compelling the soul to take refuge in such a 
supersensuous world as Christianity offers, 289. Abstract personality — 
the legal right of the individual, established by Rome — General aspect 
of the political world of Rome, 290. Treatment of its annals by His- 
torians, Philologists, and Jurists — Locality of Rome — Question of an 
Italian capital discussed by Napoleon in his " Memoirs." Italy presents 
no natural unity, 291. Division of Roman History, 292-3. 

Section I. Rome to the time of the Second Punic 
War. 

Chapter I. The Elements of the Roman Spirit. — First establish- 
ment of Rome, 293. Romulus — Artificial foundation of the State, 
294-5. Patricians and Plebeians — Debts and laws respecting them, 
296. Roman harshness in respect to the family relation. Marriage 
and the condition of wives, 298. Strict subordination of Roman citi- 
zens to the state and its usages, 298. The prose of life characteristic 
of the Roman World — Prosaic character of Etruscan art. To the 
Romans we owe the development of positive Law, 299. Spirit of the 
mythological conceptions of the Romans to be carefully distinguished 
from that of the Greeks, 300. Mystery characterizing the Roman re- 
ligion — Number and minuteness of ceremonial observances — The 
Sacra, 301. Self-seeking character of Roman religion. 302. Prosaic 
utilitarian divinities contrasted with the free and beautiful conceptions 
of the Greeks, 303. The Saturnalia — Adoption of Greek divinities — 
Frigid use of them in Roman poetry, 304. Public games of the Romans 
— The people generally were spectators only — Cioielty of public spec- 
tacles. Superstition and self-seeking the chief characteristics of Roman 
religion, 305. Religion made to serve the purposes of the Patricians — 
No genial vitality uniting the whole state as in the Greek Polls — Each 
*' gens " sternly retains its pectJiarities, 306. 

Chapter II. History of Rome to the Second Punic War. — First 
period of Roman History — The Kings, 307-309. Expulsion of the 
Kings by the patricians — Consuls — Struggles between the patricians 
2in^ tho, plehs, 310-313. The Agrarian Laws, 314. Excitement of 
civil contest diverted into the channel of foreign wars — Roman com- 
pared with Greek armies, 315. Gradual extension of Roman dominion, 
316, 317. 



CONTEIfTS. XXXV 

Section IT. Rome from the Second Punic War to the 
Emperors. 

Power of Carthage — Hannibal, 317. Conquest of Macedonia — Antio- 
chus— Pall of Carthage and of Corinth— The Scipios, 318. When the 
excitement of war is over, the Romans have no resources of Art or 
Intellect to fall back upon, 319. Treatment of conquered provinces. 
— Increase of luxury and debauchery in Rome. The legacy of Atta- 
ins — The Gracchi, 320. Jugurtha — Mithridates — Sulla — Marius and 
Cinna— The Servile War, 321. Great individuals now appear on the 
stage of political life in Rome, as during the period of the decline of 
Greece — Pompey and Csesar — Triumph of the latter, 322. Impossi- 
bility of preserving the republican constitution — Short-sighted views 
of Cicero and Cato, 323. Character and achievements of Csesar — 
Hallucination which led to his assassination, .■324. Rise of Augustus. 
A revolution is sanctioned in men's opinions when it repeats itself 
— Napoleon and the Bourbons, 325. 

Section ITT. 

Chapter I. Rome under the Emperors. — Position of the Ruler and 
the Subjects — The forme?' an absolute despot supported by the army, 
the laiter united by purely legal relations, all concrete and genial in- 
terests being annulled, 325, 326. Personal character of the Emperors 
a matter of small importance to the empire, 327. The recognition of 
Private Right the result of this absolute despotism — Dissolution of 
the political body into its component atoms, 328. Public and political 
interests have lost all charm, and men fall back upon mere sensuous 
enjoyment or philosophic indifference— Prevalence of Stoicism, Epi- 
cureanism and Scepticism, 329. 

Chapter II. Christianity. — Julius Cassar inaugurated the 'real' 
side of the Modern World : its spiritual and inward existence was un- 
folded under Augustus — Crushing despotism of the Empire opens the 
way for Christianity, 330. The Greek, Roman and Christian grades of 
self- consciousness, 331. Despotism of Rome, the discipline of the 
World — Import of Discipline, 332. Moral introspection the charac- 
teristic of the Jewish World — The Psalms and Prophets — Connection 
of Knowledge with Sin in the Biblical Narrative of the Fall, 333. 
Annulling o/ their nationality and loss of aU temporal good reduces 
the Jewish Spirit to seek satisfaction in God alone — God recognized 
as pure Spirit in Christianity, 334, 335. The Trinity, 336. Incarna- 
tion of God in Christ its full import — distinguished from Lamaistic 
and similar conceptions, 337. Miracles — The formation of the Church 
— Christ's own teaching, 338. Polemical aspect of that teaching to 
secular interests and relations — Nowhere are such revolutionary utter- 
ances to be found as in the Gospels, 339, 340. Origination of the 
Church — Development of doctrine by the Apostles — Relation of early 
Christianity to the Empire, 341. Connection of Christian doctrine 
with the Philosophy of the time — Union of the abstract idea of God 
that originated in the West with the concrete and imaginative con- 
ceptions characteristic of the East — Alexandria— Philo — the Aoyof, 



XXXVl CONTENTS. 

341, 342. Attempt of the Alexandrians to rationalize Paganism ; and of 
Philo and Christian writers to spiritualize the narrative parts of the 
Old Testament, 343. The Nicene settlement of doctrine — Internal 
and external aspect of the Church— Kise of an ecclesiastical organi- 
zation, 344. The Ecek.s>a.sficfil distinguished from the Spiritual 
Kingdom, 345. Kecognition of Human dignity: the result of Christi- 
anity — Slavery incompatible with it — Mere customary morality abro- 
gated — (Jracles cease to be respected, 346, 347. Imbuing of secular 
Hfe with the Christia i principle, a work of time — Religion and " the 
World " not necessarily opposed to each other — Rational Freedom the 
harmonization of the lieligious and the Secular — This harmonization 
the destiny of the German peoples. 347, 348. 
Chapter III. The Byzantine Empire — Progress of Christianity — 
Division of the Empire, 349. Fall of the Roman power in the West — 
Contrast between the East and the West, 35U. Powerlessness of the 
abstract profession of Christianity in the Byzantine Empire, to restrain 
crime, 351. Violent and sanguinary reUgious feuds in Constantinople 
— Gregory Nazianzen cited, 352. Image- Worship — Aspect of Byzan- 
tine History down to the conquest of Constantinople by the Turks, 
353. 

Part IV. The German World. 

The German Spirit that of the Modern World— The German peoples 
destined to be the bearers of the Christian principle — German de- 
velopment contrasted with that of Greece and Rome, 354. The 
C^hristian World that of completion — Bearing of this fact on the 
division of the Modern World into historical periods— The Religion 
of the Ancient Germans struck no deep root among them : Tacitus' de- 
scription of them as " Secnri adversuK ]Jeo.'<" 355. Germans came in 
contact with a fully developed Ecclesiastical and Secular culture — The 
German world apparently a continuation of the Roman — But a new 
spirit characterizes them —Evolution of the antithesis between Church 
and State — Division of the German World into three periods — (l)From 
the appearance of the Germans in the Roman Empire to Charlemagne 
— (2) Period of Contest between Church and State — (3) That in which 
Secularity obtains a consciousness of its intrinsic moral value, and 
Rational Freedom is achieved, i. e. from the Reformation to our own 
times, 356, 357. The German world presents a repetition (by analogy) 
of earlier epochs — Comparison with the Persian, Greek and Roman 
World, 358, 359. 

Section I. The Elements of the Christian German 
World. 

Chapter I. The Barbarian Migrations. — Individual freedom a 
characteristic of the ancient Germans — Causes of the invasion of the 
Roman Empire, 360. Duplicate condition of the great Teutonic 
families — Various tribes of Germans, 361 — Romanic and Germanic 
nations of Europe — the former comprising Italy, Spain, Portugal and 
France, the latter Germany itself, Scandinavia and England, 362. The 
Stdaves — their immigration and relation to the rest of Europe — Have 



CONTENTS. XXX VU 

not yet appeared as an independent phase of Reason, whatever they 
may become in the Future- The German Nation characterized by 
'• Heart " [Gemilth] — " Heart " distinguished from Character, 363, 
Aspect which their idiosyncrasy presents to Christianity, 364, 365. 
Religion of the ancient Germans — Deficiency in tJepth of moral senti- 
ment, 366 Free confederations united by ./'^</^/?/— Political relations 
not founded on general principles, but split up into private rights and 
obligations, 367. Violence of passions not restrained by religion in 
the early periods of the German World — Transition from secular 
excesses to religious enthusiasm and seclusion, 368, 369. 
Chapter II. Mahometanism. — Absorption in one Idea characteristic 
of Mahometanism — the polar and supplemental opposite of the splitting 
up into particularity that distinguishes the German World, 369, 370. 
Comparison of Mahometanism with other forms of Faith — Origin and 
progress of the Mussulman faith and arms, 371. Fanaticism of the 
Mahometans — Zrt religioti et la terreur the Moslem principle, as with 
Robespierre La liberU et la terreur — Instability of their political or- 
ganizations, 372. Rapid rise of Arts and Sciences among them, 373. 
Mussulman revolutions — European struggle with the Saracens — 
Goethe's " Divan," 374. 

Chapter III. The Empire of Charlemagne — Constitution of the 

Frank Empire — Feudal System — Rise of the " Mayors of the Palace." 
Pepin le Bref, Zlb. Charlemagne — Extent of his Empire — Its com- 
plete organization, 376, 377. Administration of Justice — ^Ecclesiasti- 
cal afiairs — Imperial Council, 378, 379. Causes of the instability of 
the political organization established by Charlemagne, 380. 

Section II. The Middle Ages. 

Reactions occasioned by the infinite falsehood which rules the destinies of 
the Middle Ages. (1) That of particular nationalities against the 
universal sovereignty of the Frank Empire. (2) That of individuals 
against legal authority. (3) That of the spiritual element against the 
existing order of things. The Crusades the culminating epoch of the 
Middle Ages, 380, 381. 

Chapter I. The Feudality aijd the Hierarchy. — First reaction 
— Separation of the French from the Germans -Italian andBurgun- 
dian Kingdoms, &c Invasion by the Norsemen of England, France, 
and Germany, 382. Magyar and Saracen inroads — Inefficiency of 
the military organization formed by Charlemagne, 383. Second re- 
action — Capacity of appreciating the advantages of legal order not yet 
attained — Protection afforded by powerfu.1 individuals — " Feudum " 
and "fides," 384,385. The Imperial dignity an empty title — The 
state broken up into petty sovereignties, 386. Hugh Capet — the na- 
ture of his power — France divided into several Duchies and Earldoms 
— Conquest of England by William Duke of Normandy, 387. State 
of Germany and Italy — Right vanishing before individual Might. 
Third reaction— that of Universality against the Real World split up 
into pai'ticularity — chiefly promoted by the Church, 388. Close of the 
World expected in the eleventh century — Ecclesiastical affairs, 389. 



XXXvlU CONTENTS. 



Gregory VII. enforces the celibacy of the clergy, and contends against 
bimony, 390. Increasing power of the Church—" Truce of God," 
391. Spiritual element in the Church— Design of the 3Iass 392 
Laity and Clergy, 393. Mediation of the Saints, 394. False separa- 
tion of the Spiritual from the Secular, 395. Celibacy, Religious Pau- 
perism and the Obedience of Blind Credulity opposed to true morality 
396. The Mediaeval Church and State involved in contradictions— 
Ahsurf^ity of modern laudations oj the Middle Ages. Growth of Feu- 
dal System, side by side with that of secularized Church power— Rise of 
architectural art— of maritime commerce— of the Sciences - Growing 
importance ofthe Towns, 399. Freedom reviving in the town com- 
munities— Defensive organization— Formation of Guilds, 400 401 
Struggles between the cities and the nobility, and internal factions] 
402. Struggle of the Emperor wdth the cities and with the Church— 
Guelf and GhibeUine contest— Dante— The House of Hohenstaufen 
and the Papal power— Termination of the contest, 403-405. 

Chapter II.— The Crusades.- Analysis of the impulse that led to 
the Crusades, 405-408.— Conduct and results of the expedition, 408. 
Spiritual result of the Crusades, 409. Wars with the Moors in Spain • 
Crusades against the Albigenses, 410. Culmination of the authority 
of the Church in the Crusades, but its power weakened through their 
failure, 411. Monastic and Chivalric Orders, their Spiritual import, 
412-414. Science— Scholastic Philosophy— Intellectual i ousting 
414, 415. •' J 6» 

Chapter III.— Transition from Feudalism to Monarchy. Forms 
of Transition from feudal to monarchical sway, 415-417. State of 
Germany— Leagues of Nations, 418. Peasant fraternities— Invention 
of Gunpo/rder— its results to civilization, 419. Italy— Reduction of 
feudal power by Sovereigns.— MachiaveUi's " Prince," 420. France 
—Increasing power of Kings— States-general called, 42 1 . England— 
Magna Charta— House of Commons, 422. Revolts against Papal 
power— Arnold of Brescia, WicklifFe and Huss, 423. Disciphnary 
Influence of the Church and of Serfdom— Results, 424, 425. 

Art and Science puttiiig a period to the Middle yl^/^-s.— Religious Art 
Spiritual import of, 425, 426. Study of Antiquity. Revival of the 
Study of Greek literature occasioned by the fall of the Eastern Empire 
—New Avorld of ideas opened —The Art of Printing, 427. Dis- 
covery of the passage to India by the Cape, and of America, 428. 

Section III. The Modern Time. 

The third period ofthe German World— Spirit becomes conscious of its 
Freedom, 428. (1) The Reformation; (2) The state of things imme- 
diately resulting from it; (3) Period from the end of the last centui-y 
to the present day. 

Chapter L The Reformation.— The Reformation resulted from the 
corruption of the Church; but this conniption was no accidental pheno- 
menon-It arose from the enshriuement of the sensuous and materia] 
m the inmost being of the Church, 429 . Luther's doctrine of Faith, 432 



CONTENTS. XXXIS 

His views of theEuchai'ist — more in accordance with the Catholic than 
with the Calvinistic Church — Subjective Feeling as well as Objective 
Truth regarded in the Lutheran Church as essential to salvation, 433. 
The banner of Free Spirit — The essence of the Reformation is that 
Man is destined to be free, 434. Gradual expansion of Luther's views 
— Denies the Authority of the Church — Incalculable value to the 
Germans of Luther's translation of the Bible — The Bible a People's 
Book, 435. Coimcil of Trent stereotyped Catholic dogmas and 
rendered reconciliation between Cathohcs and Protestants impossible 
— Hostility of the Church to Science — Gahleo, 436. Why was the 
Reformation confined to Germanic nations? Answer to this question 
must be referred to essential differences of national character — Napo- 
leon's view of religion — Antipathy of cultivated Frenchmen to Protes- 
tantism, 437-439. Relation of the Reformed doctrine to social hfe 
— Cehbacy repudiated — Condemnation of " Usury" by the Church — 
Obedience of bhnd credulity renounced, 440, 441. Slow introduction 
of the principles of the Reformation into political life — Influence on 
religious consciousness of the individual — Painfully introspective ten- 
dencies, 442. The Power of Evil — Witchcraft— Legend of Faust — 
Trials for witchcraft — Long continuance of these superstitious cruel- 
ties, 444. 

Chapter II. Influence of the Reformation on Political De- 
velopment. — Establishment of hereditary monarchy — Conversion of 
rights of the great vassals into official positions and functions — Origi- 
nation of standing armies, 445, 446. Chivalric Spirit of Spain — 
The Inquisition — Assistance afforded by it to the throne — Suppression 
of aristocratic power in Europe — Proper office of an aristocracy, 44 7, 
448. System of European States — International wars —Conquest aimed 
at — Italy an especial object of desire — Disintegration characteristic of 
Italy — Love of the Fine Arts tends to make Italians indifferent to 
political matters — " Balance of Power," 449. Sovereigns threatening 
to disturb the Balance of Power — Charles V. Louis XIV. 450. The 
Thirty Years' War, 452. The " Great Rebelhon " in England, 453. 
The Peace of Westphalia, 454. Richelieu's policy, 455. Consolida- 
tion of Prussia by Frederick the Great, 456. 

Chapter III. The Eclaircissement and Revolution. — Experi- 
mental Science, Descartes, 458. Merits of Frederick the Great, 460. 
Kant, 462. Analysis of the principles of the French Revolution: 
How far connected with Philosophy: Grand Problem of the Age, 
463. The Constitution, 469. Robespierre — Napoleon, 470. Rela- 
tion of France, Italy and Spain to the Revolution, 472. Why did not 
England adopt it ? 473. Analysis of the English Constitution, 474. 
State of Germany, 475. The Goal of History, 476. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The subject of this course of Lectures is the Philosophical 
llistory of the "World. And by this must be understood, 
not a collection of general observations respecting it, sug- 
gested by the study of its records, and proposed to be illus- 
trated by its facts, but Universal History itself.* To gain a 
clear idea at the outset, of the nature of our task, it seems 
necessary to begin with an examination of the other methods 
of treating History. The various methods may be ranged 
under three heads: 

I. Original History. 
II. Reflective History. 
III. Philosophical History. 

I. Of the first kind, the mention of one or two distinguished 
names will furnish a definite type. To this category belong 
Herodotus, Thucydides, and other historians of the same 
order, whose descriptions are for the most part limited to 
deeds, events, and states of society, which they had before 
their eyes, and whose spirit they shared. They simply trans- 
ferred what was passing in the world around them, to the 
realm of re-presentative intellect. An external phenomenon 
is thus translated into an internal conception. In the same 
way the poet operates upon the material supplied him by 
his emotions ; projecting it into an image for the conceptive 
faculty. These original historians did, it is true, find state- 
ments and narratives of other men ready to hand. One 
person cannot be an eye and ear witness of everything. 
But they make use of such aids only as the poet does of that 

* I cannot mention any work that will serve as a compendium of the 
course, but I may remark that in my " Outlines of the Philosophy of 
Law," §§ 341-360, 1 have already given a definition of such a Universal 
Histoiy as it is proposed to develope, and a syllabus of the chief elements 
or periods into which it naturally divides itself. 



2 INTEODUCTIOir. 

heritage of au already-formed language, to which he owes so 
much ; merely as an ingredient. Historiographers bind to- 
gether the fleeting elements of story, and treasure them up 
for immortality in the Temple of Mnemosyne. Legends, 
Ballad-stories, Traditions must be excluded from such ori- 
ginal history. These are but dim and hazy forms of histo- 
rical apprehension, and therefore belong to nations whese 
intelligence is but half awakened. Here, on the contrary, we 
have to do with people fully conscious of what they were 
and what they were about. The domain of reality — actually 
seen, or capable of being so — affords a very different basis in 
point of firmness from that fugitive and shadowy element, 
in which were engendered those legends and poetic dreams 
whose historical prestige vanishes, as soon as nations have 
attained a mature individuality. 

Such original historians, then, change the events, the deeds 
and the states of society with which they are conversant, 
into an object for the conceptive faculty. The narratives they 
leave us cannot, therefore, be very comprehensive in their 
range. Herodotus, Thucydides, Guicciardini, may be taken 
as fair samples of the class in this respect. AYhat is present 
and living in their environment, is their proper material. 
The influences that have formed the writer are identical with 
those which have moulded the events that constitute the 
matter of his story. The author's spirit, and that of the 
actions he narrates, is one and the same. He describes 
scenes in which he himself has been an actor, or at any rate 
an interested spectator. It is short periods of time, indi- 
vidual shapes of persons and occurrences, single, unreflected 
traits, of which he makes his picture. And his aim is no- 
thing more than the presentation to posterity of an image of 
events as clear as that which he himself possessed in virtue 
of personal observation, or life-like descriptions. E-eflections 
are none of his business, for he lives in the spirit of his sub- 
ject ; he has not attained an elevation above it. If, as in 
Capsar's case, he belongs to the exalted rank of generals or 
statesmen, it is the prosecution of his own aims that con- 
stitutes the history. 

Such speeches as we find in Thucydides (for example) of 
v/hich we can positively assert that they are not bond fide 
reports, would seem to make against our statement that a 



ORIGINAL HJ STORY. 3 

historian of his class presents ns no reflected picture ; that 
persons and people appear in his works in propria persona. 
Speeches, it must be allowed, are veritable transactions in 
the human commonwealth ; in fact, very gravely influential 
transactions. It is, indeed, often said, " Such and such 
things are only talk ;" by way of demonstrating their harm- 
lessness. That for which this excuse is brought, may be 
mere " talk ;" and talk enjoys the important privilege 
of being harmless. But addresses of peoples to peoples, or 
orations directed to nations and to princes, are integrant 
constituents of history. Grranted that such orations as 
those of Pericles — that most profoundly accomplished, ge- 
nuine, noble statesman — were elaborated by Thucydides ; it 
must yet be maintained that they were not foreign to the 
character of the speaker. In the orations in questiou, these 
men proclaim the maxims adopted by their countrymen, and 
which, formed their own character ; they record their views 
of their political relations, and of their moral and spiritual 
nature ; and the principles of their designs and conduct. 
"What the historian puts into their mouths is no suppositi- 
tious system of ideas, but an uncorrupted transcript of their 
intellectual and moral habitudes. 

Of these historians, whom we must make thoroughly our 
own, with whom we must linger long, if we would live with 
their respective nations, and enter deeply into their spirit : 
of these historians, to whose pages we may turn not for the 
purposes of erudition merely, but with a view to deep and ge- 
nuine enjoyment, there are fewer than might be imagined. 
Herodotus the Father, i.e. the Founder of History, and Thu- 
cydides have been already mentioned. Xenophon's Betreat of 
the Ten Thousand, is a work equally original. Caesar's Com- 
mentaries are the simple masterpiece of a mighty spirit. 
Among the ancients, these annalists were necessarily great 
captains and statesmen. In the Middle Ages, if we except 
the Bishops, who were placed in the very centre of the poli- 
tical world, the Monks monopolize this category as naive 
chroniclers who were as decidedly isolated from active life as 
those elder annalists had been connected with it. In modern 
times the relations are entirely altered. Our culture is es- 
sentially comprehensive, and immediately changes all events 
into historical representations. Belonging to the class in 



4 INTEODrCTION. 

question, we have vivid, simple, clear narrations — especially 
of military transactions — which might fairly take their place 
with those of Caesar. In richness of matter and fulness of 
detail as regards strategic appliances, and attendant cir- 
cumstances, they are even more instructive. The French 
" Memoires " also, fall under this category. In many cases 
these are written by men of mark, though relating to affairs of 
attle note. They not unfrequently contain a large proportion 
of anecdotical matter, so that the ground they occupy is 
narrow and trivial. Yet they are often veritable master- 
pieces in history ; as those of Cardinal Ketz, which in fact 
trench on a larger historical field. In Grermany such masters 
are rare. Frederick the Grreat (" Histoire de mon temps") 
is an illustrious exception. Writers of this order must oc- 
cupy an elevated position. Only from such a position is it 
possible to take an extensive view of affairs — to see every- 
thing. This is out of the question for him, who from below 
merely gets a glimpse of the great world through a miserable 
cranny. 

II. The second kind of history we may call the reflective. 
It is history whose mode of representation is not really con- 
fined by the limits of the time to which it relates, but whose 
spirit transcends the present. In this second order a strongly 
marked variety of species may be distinguished. 

1. It is the aim of the investigator to gain a view of the 
entire history of a people or a country, or of the world, in 
short, what we call Universal History. In this case the 
working up of the historical material is the main point. 
The workman approaches his task with his own spirit ; a 
spirit distinct from that of the element he is to manipulate. 
Here a very important consideration will be the principles to 
which the author refers the bearing and motives of the 
actions and events which he describes, and those which de- 
termine the form of his narrative. Among us Germans this 
reflective treatment and the display of ingenuity which it 
occasions, assume a manifold variety of phases. Every 
writer of history proposes to himself an original method. 
The English and French confess to general principles of his- 
torical composition. Their stand-point is more that of cos- 
mopolitan or of national culture. Among us each labours to 
invent a purely individual point of view. Instead of writing 



EEFLECTITE HISTORY. O 

history, we are always beating our brains to discover how 
history ought to be written. This first kind of Eeflective 
History is most nearly akin to the preceding, when it has no 
farther aim than to present the annals of a country complete. 
Such compilations (among which may be reckoned the works 
of Livy, Diodorus Siculus, Johannes von Muller's History of 
Switzerland) are, if well performed, highly meritorious. 
Among the best of the kind may be reckoned such annalists 
as approach those of the first class ; who give so vivid a tran- 
script of events that the reader may well fancy himself lis- 
tenmg to contemporaries and eye-witnesses. But it often 
happens that the" individuality of tone which must charac- 
terize a writer belonging to a different culture, is not modified 
in accordance with the periods such a record must traverse. 
The spirit of the writer is quite other than that of the times 
of which he treats. Thus Livy puts into the mouths of the 
old Eoman kings, consuls, and generals, such orations as 
would be delivered by an accomplished advocate of the Livian 
era, and which strikingly contrast with the genuine tradi- 
tions of Eoman antiquity {e. g. the fable of Menenius 
Agrippa.) In the same way he gives us descriptions of 
battles, as if he had been an actual spectator ; but whose 
features would serve well enough for battles in any period, 
and whose distinctness contrasts on the other hand with the 
want of connection and the inconsistency that prevail else- 
where, even in his treatment of chief points of interest. The 
difference between such a compiler and an original historian 
may be best seen by comparing Polybius himself with the 
style in which Livy uses, expands, and abridges his annals 
in those periods of which Polybius' s account has been pre- 
served. Johannes von Miiller has given a stiff", formal, pe- 
dantic aspect to his history, in the endeavour to remain 
faithful in his portraiture to the times he describes. We 
much prefer the narratives we find in old Tschudy. All is 
more naive and natural than it appears in the garb of a fic- 
titious and affected archaism. 

A history which aspires to traverse long periods of time, 
or to be universal, must indeed forego the attempt to give 
individual representations of the past as it actually existed. 
It must foreshorten its pictures by abstractions; and this in- 
cludes not merely the omission of events and deeds, but what- 



6 INTRODUCTION. 

ever is involved in the fact that Thought is, after all, the 
most trenchant epitomist. A battle, a great victory, a siege, 
no longer maintains its original proportions, but is put off 
with a bare mention. When Livy e. g. tells us of the wars 
with the Volsci, we sometimes have the brief announcement : 
" This year war was carried on with the Volsci.*' 

2. A second species of Eeflective History is what we 
\\\2ij call the Pragmatical. When we have to deal with the 
Past, and occupy ourselves with a remote world, a Present 
rises into being for the mind — produced by its own acti^dty, 
as the reward of its labour. The occurrences are, indeed, 
various ; but the idea which pervades them — their deeper 
import and connection — is one. This takes the occurrence 
out of the category of the Past and makes it virtually Pre- 
sent. Pragmatical (didactic) reflections, though in their 
nature decidedly abstract, are truly and indefeasibly of the 
Present, and quicken the annals of the dead Past with the 
life of to-day. Whether, indeed, such reflections are truly 
interesting and enlivening, depends on the writer's own 
spirit. Moral reflections must here be specially noticed, — 
the moral teaching expected from history ; which latter has 
not unfrequently been treated with a direct view to the 
former. It may be allowed that examples of virtue elevate 
the soul, and are applicable in the moral instruction of 
children for impressing excellence upon their minds. But 
the destinies of peoples and states, their interests, relations, 
and the complicated tissue of their affairs, present quite 
another field. E-ulers, Statesmen, Nations, are wont to be 
emphatically commended to the teaching which experience 
offers in history. But what experience and history teach 
is this, — that peoples and governments never have learned 
anything from history, or acted on principles deduced from 
it. Each period is involved in such peculiar circumstances, 
exhibits a condition of things so strictly idiosyncratic, that 
its conduct must be regulated by considerations connected 
with itself, and itself alone. Amid the pressure of great 
events, a general principle gives no help. It is useless to 
revert to similar circumstances in the Past. The pallid 
shades of memory struggle in vain with the life and freedom 
of the Present. Looked at in this light, nothing can be 
shallower than the oft-repeated appeal to G-reek and Eomau 



CRITICAL HISTOEY. 7 

examples during the Frencli Eevolution. Nothing is more 
diverse than the genius of those nations and that of our 
times. Johannes v. Miiller, in his Universal History as 
also in his History of Switzerland, had such moral aims in 
view. He designed to prepare a body of political doctrines 
for the instruction of princes, governments and peoples (he 
formed a special collection of doctrines and reflections, — 
frequently giving us in his correspondence the exact number 
of apophthegms which he had compiled in a week) ; but he 
cannot reckon this part of his labour as among the best that 
he accomplished. It is only a thorough, liberal, compre- 
hensive view of historical relations (such e.g. as we find In 
Montesquieu's " Esprit des Loix"), that can give truth and 
interest to reflections of this order. One Eeflective History 
therefore, supersedes another. The materials are patent to 
every writer : each is likely enough to believe himself capa- 
ble of arranging and manipulating them ; and we may 
expect that each will insist upon his own spirit as that of 
the age in question. Disgusted by such reflective histories, 
readers have often returned with pleasure to a narrative 
adopting no particular point of view. These certainly have 
their value ; but for the most part they offer only material 
for history. We Germans are content with such. The 
French, on the other hand, display great genius in reani- 
mating bygone times, and in bringing the past to bear upon 
the present condition of things. 

3. The third form of Eeflective History is the Critical. 
This deserves mention as preeminently the mode of treating 
history, now current in Germany. It is not history itself 
that is here presented. We might more properly designate 
it as a History of History ; a criticism of historical narra- 
tives and an investigation of their truth and credibility. 
Its peculiarity in point of fact and of intention, consists in 
the acuteness with which the writer extorts something from 
the records which was not in the matters recorded. The 
Erench have given us much that is profound and judicious 
in this class of composition. But they have not endeavoured 
to pass a merely critical procedure for substantial history. 
They have duly presented their judgments in the form of 
critical treatises. Among us, the so-called " higher criti- 
cism," which reigns supreme in the domain of philology, 



8 INTEODUCTIOU. 

has also taken possession of our historical literature. This 
" higher criticism " has been the pretext for introducing all 
the anti-historical monstrosities that a vain imagination 
could suggest. Here we have the other method of making 
the past a living reality ; putting subjective fancies in the 
place of historical data ; fancies whose merit is measured by 
their boldness, that is, the scantiness of the particulars on 
which they are based, and the peremptoriness with which 
they contravene the best established facts of history. 

4. The last species of Eeflective History announces its 
fragmentary character on the very face of it. It adopts an 
abstract position ; yet, since it takes general points of view 
{e.g. as the History of Art, of Law, of Eeligion), it forms a 
transition to the Philosophical History of the World. In 
our time this form of the history of ideas has been more 
developed and brought into notice. Such branches of na- 
tional life stand in close relation to the entire complex of a 
people's annals ; and the question of chief importance in 
relation to our subject is, whether the connection of the 
whole is exhibited in its truth and reality, or referred to 
merely external relations. In the latter case, these im- 
portant phenomena (Art, Law, Eeligion, &c.) appear as 
purely accidental national peculiarities. It must be re- 
marked that, when Eeflective History has advanced to the 
adoption of general points of view, if the position taken is 
a true one, these are found to constitute — not a merely 
external tlu-ead, a superficial series — but are the inward 
guiding soul of the occurrences and actions that occupy a 
nation's annals. For, like the soul-conductor Mercury, the 
Idea is in truth, the leader of peoples and of the World; 
and Spirit, the rational and necessitated will of that con- 
ductor, is and has been the director of the events of the 
World's History. To become acquainted with Spirit in 
this its ofiice of guidance, is the object of our present 
undertaking. This brings us to 

III. The third kind of history, — the Philosophical. No 
explanation was needed of the two previous classes ; their 
nature was self-evident. It is otherwise with this last, 
which certainly seems to require an exposition or justifica- 
tion. The most general definition that can be given, is, that 
the Philosophy of History means nothing but the thoughtful 



PHILOSOPHICAL HISTOEY. 9 

consideration of it. Thought is, indeed, essential to hu- 
manity. It is this that distinguishes us from the brutes. 
In sensation, cognition and intellection ; in our instincts 
and volitions, as far as they are truly human. Thought is 
an invariable element. To insist upon Thought in this con- 
nection with history, may however, appear unsatisfactory. 
In this science it would seem as if Thought must be subor- 
dinate to what is given, to the realities of fact ; that this is 
its basis and guide : while Philosophy dwells in the region 
of self-produced ideas, without reference to actuality. Ap- 
proaching history thus prepossessed, Speculation might be 
expected to treat it as a mere passive material ; and, so far 
from leaving it in its native truth, to force it into conformity 
with a tyrannous idea, and to construe it, as the phrase is, 
"«^WoW." But as it is the business of history simply to 
adopt into its records what is and has been, actual occur- 
rences and transactions ; and since it remains true to its 
character in proportion as it strictly adheres to its data, we 
seem to have in Philosophy, a process diametrically opposed 
to that of the historiographer. This contradiction, and the 
charge consequently brought against speculation, shall be 
explained and confuted. "We do not, however, propose to 
correct the innumerable special misrepresentations, trite or 
novel, that are current respecting the aims, the interests, 
and the modes of treating history, and its relation to Phi- 
losophy. 

The only Thought which Philosophy brings with it to the 
contemplation of History, is the simple conception of 
Beason ; that Eeason is the Sovereign of the "World ; that 
the history of the world, therefore, presents us with a 
rational process. This conviction and intuition is a hypo- 
thesis in the domain of history as such. In that of Phi- 
losophy it is no hypothesis. It is there proved by spe- 
culative cognition, that Beason — and this term may here 
suffice us, without investigating the relation sustained by the 
Universe to the Divine Being,— is Substance, as well as 
Infinite 'Power ; its own Infinite Material underlying 
all the natural and spiritual life which it originates, as 
also the Infinite Ibrtn, — that which sets this Material in 
motion. On the one hand, Eeason is the substance of the 
"Universe ; viz. that by which and in which aU reality has its 



10 INTEODUCTIOK. 

beiug and subsistence. On the other hand, it is the Infinite 
Energy of the Universe ; since Reason is not so powerless 
as to be incapable of producing anything but a mere ideal, 
a mere intention— having its place outside reality, nobody 
knows where; something separate and abstract, in the heads 
of certain human beings. It is the infinite complex of 
things, their entire Essence and Truth. It is its own ma- 
terial which it commits to its own Active Energy to work 
up ; not needing, as finite action does, the conditions of an 
external material of given means from which it may obtain 
its support, and the objects of its activity. It supplies its 
own nourishment, and is the object of its own operations. 
While it is exclusively its own basis of existence, and abso- 
lute final aim, it is also the energizing power realizing this 
aim ; developing it not only in the phenomena of the 
Natural, but also of the Spiritual Universe — the History of 
the World. That this " Idea" or " Season " is the True, 
the Eternal, the absolutely j^owjer/kZ essence ; that it reveals 
itself in the World, and that in that World nothing else is 
revealed but this and its honour and glory — is the thesis 
which, as we have said, has been proved in Philosophy, and 
is here regarded as demonstrated. 

In those of my hearers who are not acquainted with 
Philosophy, I may fairly presume, at least, the existence 
of a belief in Beason, a desire, a thirst for acquaint- 
ance with it, in entering upon this course of Lectures. 
It is, in fact, the wish for rational insight, not the ambi- 
tion to amass a mere heap of acquirements, that should be 
presupposed in every case as possessing the mind of the 
learner in the study of science. If the clear idea of Eeason 
is not already developed in our minds, in beginning the 
study of Universal History, we should at least have the 
firm, unconquerable faith that Reason does exist there ; and 
that the World of intelligence and conscious volition is 
not abandoned to chance, but must shew itself in the light 
of the self-cognizant Idea. Yet I am not obliged to make 
any such preliminary demand upon your faith. What I 
have said thus provisionally, and what I shall have further 
to say, is, even in reference to our branch of science, not to 
be regarded as hypothetical, but as a summary view of the 
whole ; the result of the investigation we are about to pur- 



EESULT OP HISTOET. 11 

sue ; a result wliicli happens to be known to me, because I 
have traversed the entire field. It is only an inference from 
the history of the "World, that its development has been a 
rational process ; that the history in question has consti- 
tuted the rational necessary course of the World-Spirit — 
that Spirit whose nature is always one and the same, but 
which unfolds this its one nature in the phenomena of the 
"World's existence. This must, as before stated, present 
itself as the ultimate result of History. But we have to 
take the latter as it is. We must proceed historically — 
empirically. Among other precautions we must take care 
not to be misled by professed historians who (especially 
among the Grermans, and enjoying a considerable authority), 
are chargeable with the very procedure of which they accuse 
the Philosopher — introducing a priori inventions of their 
own into the records of the Past. It is, for example, a widely 
current fiction, that there was an original primaeval people, 
taught immediately by God, endowed with perfect insight 
and wisdom, possessing a thorough knowledge of all natural 
laws and spiritual truth; that there have been such or such 
sacerdotal peoples ; or, to mention a more specific averment, 
that there was a Eoman Epos, from which the Roman his- 
torians derived the early annals of their city, &c. Authori- 
ties of this kind we leave to those talented historians by 
profession, among whom (in Grermany at least) their use is 
not uncommon. — We might then announce it as the first 
condition to be observed, that we should faithfully adopt all 
that is historical. But in such general expressions them- 
selves, as "faithfully" and "adopt," lies the ambiguity. 
Even the ordinary, the "impartial" historiographer, who 
believes and professes that he maintains a simply receptive 
attitude; surrendering himself only to the data supplied 
him — is by no means passive as regards the exercise of his 
thinking powers. He brings his categories with him, and 
sees the phenomena presented to his mental vision, exclu- 
sively through these media. And, especially in all that 
pretends to the name of science, it is indispensable that 
Eeason should not sleep — that reflection should be in full 
play. To him who looks upon the world rationally, the 
world in its turn, presents a rational aspect. The relation 
is mutual. But the various exercises of reflection — the dit- 



12 INTEODUCTION. 

ferent points of view — the modes of deciding the simple 
question of the relative importance of events (the first 
category that occupies the attention of the historian), do 
not belong to this place. 

I will only mention two phases and points of view that 
concern the' generally diffused conviction that Eeason has 
ruled, and is still ruling in the world, and consequently in 
the world's history; because they give us, at the same time, 
an opportunity for more closely investigating the question 
that presents the greatest difficulty, and for indicating a 
branch of the subject, which will have to be enlarged on in 
the sequel. 

I. — One of these points is, that passage in history, which in- 
forms us that the Grreek Anaxagoras was the first to enunciate 
the doctrine that vovg, Understanding generally, or Eeason, 
governs the world. It is not intelligence as self-conscious 
E/Cason, — not a Spirit as such that is meant ; and we must 
clearly distinguish these from each other. The movement of 
the solar system takes place according to unchangeable laws. 
These laws are Eeason, implicit in the phenomena in question. 
But neither the sun nor the planets, which revolve around it 
according to these laws, can be said to have any conscious- 
ness of them. 

A thought of this kind, — that Nature is an embodiment 
of Eeason ; that it is unchangeably subordinate to universal 
laws, appears nowise striking or strange to us. We are 
accustomed to such conceptions, and find nothing extraor- 
dinary in them. And I have mentioned this extraordinary 
occurrence, partly to shew how history teaches, that ideas of 
this kind, which may seem trivial to us, have not always been 
in the world ; that on the contrary, such a thought makes 
an epoch in the annals of human intelligence. Aristotle 
says of Anaxagoras, as the originator of the thought in ques- 
tion, that he appeared as a sober man among the drunken. 
Socrates adopted the doctrine from Anaxagoras, and it forth- 
with became the ruling idea in Philosophy, — except in the 
school of Epicurus, who ascribed all events to chance. " I 
was delighted with the sentiment," — Plato makes Socrates 
gay, — *' and hoped I had found a teacher who would shew me 
Nature in harmony with Eeason, who would demonstrate in 
each particular phenomenon its specific aim, and in the whole, 



PROVIDENCE. 13 

the grand object of tlie Universe. I would not have sur- 
rendered this hope for a great deal. But how very much 
was I disappointed, when, having zealously applied myself to 
the writings of Anaxagoras, I found that he adduces only 
external causes, such as Atmosphere, Ether, Water, and the 
like." It is evident that the defect which Socrates complains 
of respecting Anaxagoras's doctrine, does not concern the 
principle itself, but the shortcoming of the propounder in 
applying it to Nature in the concrete. Nature is not deduced 
from that principle : the latter remains in fact a mere ab- 
straction, inasmuch as the former is not comprehended and 
exhibited as a development of it, — an organisation produced 
by and from Eeason. I wish, at the very outset, to call vour 
attention to the important difference between a conception, 
a principle, a truth limited to an abstract form and its de- 
terminate application, and concrete development. This dis- 
tinction affects the whole fabric of philosophy ; and among 
other bearings of it there is one to which we shall have 
to revert at the close of our view of Universal History, 
in investigating the aspect of political affairs in the most 
recent period. 

"We have next to notice the rise of this idea — that Eeason 
directs the "World— in connection with a further application 
of it, well known to us, — in the form, viz. of the religioiis 
truth, that the world is not abandoned to chance and ex- 
ternal contingent causes, but that a Providence controls it, 
I stated above, that I would not make a demand on your 
faith, in regard to the principle announced. Yet I might 
appeal to your belief in it, in this religious aspect, if, as a 
general rule, the nature of philosophical science allowed it to 
attach authority to presuppositions. To put it in another 
shape, — this appeal is forbidden, because the science of which 
we have to treat, proposes itself to furnish the proof (not 
indeed of the abstract Truth of the doctrine, but) of its 
correctness as compared with facts. The truth, then, that 
a Providence (that of Grod) presides over the events of the 
World —consorts with the proposition in question ; for 
Divine Providence is "Wisdom, endowed with an infinite 
Power, which realises its aim, viz. the absolute rational 
design of the "World. Eeason is Thought conditioning itself 
with perfect freedom. But a difference — rather a contra- 



14 INTEODUCTIOK. 

diction — will manifest itself, between this belief and our 
principle, just as was the case in reference to the demand 
made by Socrates in the case of Anaxagoras's dictum. Tor 
that belief is similarly indefinite ; it is what is called a belief 
in a general Providence, and is not followed out into definite 
application, or displayed in its bearing on the grand total 
— the entire course of human history. But to explain 
History is to depict the passions of mankind, the genius, the 
active powers, that play their part on the great stage ; and 
the providentially determined process which these exhibit, 
constitutes what is generally called the " plan " of Provi- 
dence. Yet it is this very plan which is supposed to be 
concealed from our view : which it is deemed presumption, 
even to wish to recognise. The ignorance of Anaxagoras, as 
to how intelligence reveals itself in actual existence, was 
ingenuous. Neither in his consciousness, nor in that of 
Greece at large, had that thought been farther expanded. 
He had not attained the power to apply his general principle 
to the concrete, so as to deduce the latter from the former. 
It was Socrates who took the first step in comprehending the 
union of the Concrete with the Universal. Anaxagoras, then, 
did not take up a hostile position towards such an application. 
The common belief in Providence does ; at least it opposes 
the use of the principle on the large scale, and denies the 
possibility of discerning the plan of Providence. In isolated 
cases this plan is supposed to be manifest. Pious persons 
are encouraged to recognise in particular circumstances, 
something more than mere chance ; to acknowledge the 
guiding hand of God ; e.g. when help has unexpectedly come 
to an individual in great perplexity and need. But these 
instances of providential design are of a limited kind, and 
concern the accomplishment of nothing more than the desires 
of the individual in question. But in the history of the 
World, the Individuals we have to do with are Peoples ; 
Totalities that are States. We cannot, therefore, be satisfied 
with what we may call this "peddling " view of Providence, 
to which the belief alluded to limits itself. Equally unsatis- 
factory is the merely abstract, undefined belief in a Provi- 
dence, when that belief is not brought to bear upon the 
details of the process which it conducts. On the contrary 
our earnest endeavour must be directed to the recognition 



KNOWLEDGE OF GOD. 15 

of the ways of Providence, the means it uses, and the historical 
phenomena in which it manifests itself ; and we must shew 
their connection with the general principle above mentioned. 
But in noticing the recognition of the plan of Divine Provi- 
dence generally, I have implicitly touched upon a prominent 
question of the day ; viz. that of the possibility of knowing 
Grod : or rather — since public opinion has ceased to allow it 
to be a matter of question — the doctrine that it is impossible 
to know Grod. In direct contravention of what is commanded 
in holy Scripture as the highest duty, — that we should not 
merely love, but know Grod, — the prevalent dogma involves 
the denial of what is there said ; viz. that it is the Spirit (der 
Greist) that leads into Truth, knows all things, penetrates 
even into the deep things of the Grodhead. While the 
Divine Being is thus placed beyond our knowledge, and 
outside the limit of all human things, we have the convenient 
licence of wandering as far as we list, in the direction of our 
own fancies. We are freed from the obligation to refer our 
knowledge to the Divine and True. On the other hand, the 
vanity and egotism which characterise it, find, in this false 
position, ample justification; and the pious modesty which 
puts far from it the knowledge of Grod, can well estimate how 
much furtherance thereby accrues to its own wayward and 
vain strivings. I have been unwilling to leave out of sight 
the connection between our thesis — that Eeason governs and 
has governed the World — and the question of the possibility of 
a knowledge of Grod, chiefly that I might not lose the opportu- 
nity of mentioning the imputation against Philosophy of being 
shy of noticing religious truths, or of having occasion to be so ; 
in which is insinuated the suspicion that it has anything but a 
clear conscience in the presence of these truths. So far from 
this being the case, the fact is, that in recent times Philosophy 
has been obliged to defend the domain of religion against 
the attacks of several theological systems. In the Christian 
religion Grod has revealed Himself,— that is, he has given us 
to understand what He is ; so that He is no longer a con- 
cealed or secret existence. And this possibility of knowing 
Him, thus afforded us, renders such knowledge a duty. Grod 
wishesnonarrow-hearted souls or empty heads for his children; 
but those whose spirit is of itself indeed, poor, but rich in 
the knowledge of Him ; and who regard this knowledge of 



16 INTEODPCTION. 

Grod as the only valuable possession. That development of 
the thinking spirit, which has resulted from the revelation 
of the Divine Being as its original basis, must ultimately 
advance to the intellectual comprehension of what was pre- 
sented in the first instance, to feeling and imagination. The 
time must eventually come for understanding that rich 
product of active Eeason, which the History of the World 
offers to us. It was for a while the fashion to profess ad- 
miration for the wisdom of God, as displayed in animals, 
plants, and isolated occurrences. But, if it be allowed that 
Providence manifests itself in such objects and forms of 
existence, why not also in Universal History. This is deemed 
too great a matter to be thus regarded. But Divine "Wisdom, 
i. e. Eeason, is one and the same in the great as in the 
little ; and we must not imagine God to be too weak to 
exercise his wisdom on the grand scale. Our intellectual 
striving aims at realizing the conviction that what was 
intended by eternal wisdom, is actually accomplished in the 
domain of existent, active Spirit, as well as in that of mere 
Nature. Our mode of treating the subject is, in this aspect, 
a Theodicaea, — a justification of the ways of God, — which 
Leibnitz attempted metaphysically, in his method, i. e. in 
indefinite abstract categories, — so that the ill that is found 
in the World may be comprehended, and the thinking Spirit 
reconciled with the fact of the existence of evil. Indeed, 
nowhere is such a harmonising view more pressingly de- 
manded than in Universal History ; and it can be attained 
only by recognising the positive existence, in which that 
negative element is a subordinate, and vanquished nullity. 
On the one hand, the ultimate design of the World must be 
perceived ; and, on the other hand, the fact that this design 
has been actually realized in it, and that evil has not been 
able permanently to assert a competing position. But this 
conviction involves much more than the mere belief in a 
superintending roue, or in " Providence." " Eeason," whose 
sovereignty over the World has been maintained, is as in- 
definite a terra as "Providence," supposing the term to be 
used by those who are unable to characterize it distinctly, 
— to shew wherein it consists, so as to enable us to decide 
whether a thing is rational or irrational. An adequate defi- 
nition of Eeason is the first desideratum ; and whatever 



UXTIMATE DESIGN OF THE WOEID. 17 

boast may be made of strict adherence to it in explaining 
phenomena, — without such a definition we get no farther 
than mere words. With these observations we may proceed 
to the second point of view that has to be considered in this 
Introduction. 

II. The enquiry into the essential destiny of Eeason — 
as far as it is considered in reference to the World — is iden- 
tical with the question, what is the ttltima^e design of the 
World? And the expression implies that that design is 
destined to be realised." Two points of consideration suggest 
themselves : first, the import of this design — its abstract 
definition ; and secondly, its realization. 

It must be observed at the outset, that the phenomenon 
we investigate —Universal History — belongs to the realm of 
Spirit. The term " World'' includes both physical and psy- 
chical Nature. Physical Nature also plays its part in the 
World's History, and attention will have to be paid to the 
fundamental natural relations thus involved. But Spirit, 
and the course of its development, is our substantial object. 
Our task does not require us to contemplate Nature as a 
national System in itself — though in its own proper domain 
it proves itself such — but simply in its relation to Spirit. On 
the stage on which we are observing it, — Universal History 
—Spirit displays itself in its most concrete reality. Not- 
withstanding this (or rather for the very purpose of com- 
prehending the general principles which this, its form of 
concrete reality, embodies) we must premise some abstract 
characteristics of the stature of Spirit. Such an explanation, 
however, cannot be given here under any other form than 
that of bare assertion. The present is not the occasion for 
unfolding the idea of Spirit speculatively ; for whatever has a 
place in an Introduction, must, as already observed, be taken 
as simply historical; something assumed as having been 
explained and proved elsewhere ; or whose demonstration 
awaits the sequel of the Science of History itself. 
We have therefore to mention here : 

(1.) The abstract characteristics of the nature of 
Spirit. 

(2.) What means Spirit uses in order to realize its Idea. 

(3.) Lastly, we must consider' the shape which the 
perfect embodiment of Spirit assumes — the State. 



18 INTEODUCTION. 

(1.) The nature of Spirit may be understood "by a glance 
at its direct opposite — Matter. As the essence of Matter 
is Gravity, so, on the other hand, we may affirm that the 
substance, the essence of Spirit is Freedom. All will readily 
assent to the doctrine that Spirit, among other properties, 
is also endowed with Freedom ; but philosophy teaches that 
all the qualities of Spirit exist only through Freedom ; that 
all are but means for attaining Freedom ; that all seek 
and produce this and this alone. It is a result of spe- 
culative Philosophy, that Freedom is the sole truth of 
Spirit. Matter possesses gravity in virtue of its tendency 
towards a central point. It is essentially composite ; con- 
sisting of parts that exclude each other. It seeks its Unity ; 
and therefore exhibits itself as self- destructive, as verging 
towards its opposite [an indivisible point]. If it could attain 
this, it would be Matter no longer, it would have perished. 
It strives after the realization of its Idea ; for in Unity it 
exists ideally. Spirit, on the contrary, may be defined as 
that which has its centre in itself. It has not a unity out- 
side itself, but has already found it ; it exists in and ivith 
itself. Matter has its essence out of itself; Spirit is self- 
contained existence (Bei-sich-selbst-seyn). Now this is 
Freedom, exactly. For if I am dependent, my being is re- 
ferred to something else which I am not ; I cannot exist in- 
dependently of something external. I am free, on the 
contrary, when my existence depends upon myself. This 
self-contained existence of Spirit is none other than self- 
consciousness — consciousness of one's own being. Two 
things must be distinguished in consciousness ; first, the 
fact that I know ; secondly, wliat I know. In self con- 
sciousness these are merged in one ; for Spirit knows itself. 
It involves an appreciation of its own nature, as also an 
energy enabling it to realise itself ; to make itself actually that 
which it is potentially. According to this abstract definition 
it may be said of Universal History, that it is the exhibition 
of Spirit in the process of working out the knowledge of 
that which it is potentially. And as the germ bears in 
itself the whole nature of the tree, and the taste and form of 
its fruits, so do the first traces of Spirit virtually contain the 
whole of that History. The Orientals have not attained the 
knowledge that Spirit — Man as such—ia free ; and because 



ESSENTIALS OF EEEEDOM. 19 

they do not know tbis, they are not free. They only know- 
that one is free. But on this very account, the freedom of 
that one is only caprice ; ferocity — brutal recklessness of pas- 
sion, or a mildness and tameness of the desires, which is itself 
only an accident of Nature — mere caprice like the former. 
— That one is therefore only a Despot ; not a free man. The 
consciousness of Freedom first arose among the Greeks, and 
therefore they were free ; but they, and the Eomans likewise, 
knew only that some are free, — not man as such. Even 
Plato and Aristotle did not know this. The Grreeks, there- 
fore, had slaves ; and their whole life and the maintenance of 
their splendid liberty, was implicated with the institution 
of slavery : a fact moreover, which made that liberty on the 
one hand only an accidental, transient and limited growth ; 
on the other hand, constituted it. a rigorous thraldom of our 
common nature — of the Human. The German nations, 
under the influence of Christianity, were the first to attain 
the consciousness, that man, as man, is free : that it is the 
freedom of Spirit which constitutes its essence. This con- 
sciousness arose first in religion, the inmost region of Spirit; 
but to introduce the principle into the various relations ot 
the actual world, involves a more extensive problem than its 
simple implantation ; a problem whose solution and appli- 
cation require a severe and lengthened process of culture. 
In proof of this, we may note that slavery did not cease 
immediately on the reception of Christianity. Still less did 
liberty predominate in States ; or Governments and Consti- 
tutions adopt a rational organization, or recognise freedom 
as their basis. That application of the principle to political 
relations ; the thorough moulding and interpenetration of 
the constitution of society by it, is a process identical with 
history itself. I have already directed attention to the dis- 
tinction here involved, between a principle as such, and its 
application ; i. e. its introduction and carrying out in the 
actual phenomena of Spirit and Life. This is a point of 
fundamental importance in our science, and one which must 
be constantly respected as essential. And in the same way 
as this distinction has attracted attention in view of the 
O^m^ia?^ principle of self-consciousness— Freedom ; it also 
shews itself as an essential one, in view o^ the principle of 
Freedom generally. The History of the world is none other 



^0 INTEODTJCTION. 

than the progress of the consciousness of rreedi)m ; a pro- 
gress whose development according to the necessity of its 
nature, it is our business to investigate. 

The general statement given above, of the various grades 
in the consciousness of Freedom — and which we applied in 
the first instance to the fact that the Eastern nations knew 
only that one is free ; the Greek and Eoman world only that 
some are free ; whilst ive know that all men absolutely (man 
as maoi) are free, — supplies us with the natural division of 
Universal History, and suggests the mode of its discussion. 
This is remarked, however, only incidentally and anticipa- 
tively ; some other ideas uiust be first explained. 

The destiny of the spiritual World, and, — since this is the 
siihstantial World, while the physical remains subordinate to 
it, or, in the language of speculation, has no truth as against 
the spiritual, — the final cause of tlie World at large, we allege 
to be the consciousness of its own freedom on the part of Spirit, 
and ipso facto, the reality of that freedom. But that this 
term " Freedom," without further qualification, is an inde- 
finite, and incalculable ambiguous term ; and that while that 
which it represents is the ne plus ultra of attainment, it is 
liable to an infinity of misunderstandings, confusions and 
errors, and to become the occasion for all imaginable excesses, 
— has never been more clearly known and felt than in modern 
times. Yet, for the present, we must content ourselves with 
the term itself without farther definition. Attention was 
also directed to the importance of the infinite difference 
between a principle in the abstract, and its realization in the 
concrete. In the process before us, the essential nature of 
freedom, — which involves in it absolute necessity, —is to be 
displayed as coming to a consciousness of itself (for it is in 
its very nature, self-consciousness) and thereby realizing its 
existence. Itself is its own object of attainment, and the sole 
aim of Spirit, This result it is, at which the process of the 
"World's History has been continually aiming ; and to which 
the sacrifices that have ever and anon been laid on the vast 
altar of the earth, through the long lapse of ages, have been 
off'ered. This is the only aim that sees itself realized and 
fulfilled ; the only pole of repose amid the ceaseless change 
of events and conditions, and the sole efficient principle tlmt 
pervades them. This final aim is Ood's purpose with the 



BEALIZATION OF THE " IDEA." 21 

V7orld ; but Grod is the absolutely perfect Being, and can, 
therefore, will nothing other than himself— his own Will. 
The Nature of His "Will — that is, His Nature itself — is what 
we here call the Idea of freedom ; translating the language 
of Eeligion into that of Thought. The question, then, which 
we may next put, is : What means does this principle of 
Freedom use for its realization ? This is the second point 
we have to consider. 

(2.) The question of the means by which Ereedom deve- 
lops itself to a World, conducts us to the phenomenon of 
History itself. Although Freedom is, primarily, an unde- 
veloped idea, the means it uses are external and phenomenal ; 
presenting themselves in History to our sensuous vision. 
The first glance at History convinces us that the actions of 
men proceed from their needs, their passions, their charac- 
ters and talents ; and impresses us with the belief that such 
needs, passions and interests are the sole springs of action — 
the efficient agents in this scene of activity. Among these may, 
perhaps, be found aims of a liberal or universal kind — bene- 
volence it may be, or noble patriotism ; but such virtues and 
general views are but insignificant as compared with the 
World and its doings. We may perhaps see the Ideal of 
E-eason actualized in those who adopt such aims, and within 
the sphere of their influence ; but they bear only a trifling 
proportion to the mass of the human race ; and the extent of 
that influence is limited accordingly. Passions, private aims, 
and the satisfaction of selfish desires, are on the other hand, 
most effective springs of action. Their power lies in the 
fact that they respect none of the limitations which justice 
and morality would impose on them ; and that these natural 
impulses have a more direct influence over .man than the 
artificial and tedious discipline that tends to order and self- 
restraint, law and morality. When we look at this display 
of passions, and the consequences of their violence ; the 
Unreason which is associated not only with them, but even 
(rather we might say especially) with good designs and 
righteous aims ; when we see the evil, the vice, the ruin that 
has befallen the most flourishing kingdoms which the mind 
of man ever created ; we can scarce avoid being filled with sor- 
row at this universal taint of corruption : and, since this decay 
is not the work of mere Nature, but of the Human Will — a 



22 INTEODUCTION. 

moral embitterment — a revolt of the Good Spirit (if it have 
a place within us) may well be the result of our reflections. 
Without rhetorical exaggeration, a simply truthful combina- 
tion of the miseries that have overwhelmed the noblest of 
nations and polities, and the finest exemplars of private vir- 
tue, — forms a |)icture of most fearful aspect, and excites emo- 
tions of the profoundest and most hopeless sadness, counter- 
balanced by no consolatory result. We endure in beholding 
it a mental torture, allowing no defence or escape but the 
consideration that what has happened could not be other- 
wise ; that it is a fatality which no intervention could alter. 
And at last we draw back from the intolerable disgust with 
which these sorrowful reflections threaten us, into the more 
agreeable environment of our, individual life— the Present 
formed by our private aims and interests. In short we re- 
treat into the selfishness that stands on the quiet shore, and 
thence enjoys in safety the distant spectacle of " wrecks 
confusedly hurled." But even regarding History as the 
slaughter-bench at which the happiness of peoples, the wis- 
dom of States, and the virtue of individuals have been vic- 
timised — the question involuntarily arises — to what principle, 
to what final aim these enormous sacrifices have been offered. 
From this point the investigation usually proceeds to that 
which we have made the general commencement of our en- 
quiry. Starting from this we pointed out those pheno- 
mena which made up a picture so suggestive of gloomy 
emotions and thoughtful reflections — as the very field which 
we, for our part, regard as exhibiting only the means for 
realizing what we assert to be the essential destiny— the ab- 
solute aim, or — which comes to the same thing — the true 
result of the "World's History. We have all along purposely 
eschewed " moral reflections" as a method of rising from the 
scene of historical specialities to the general principles which 
they embody. Besides, it is not the interest of such senti- 
mentalities, really to rise above those depressing emotions ; 
and to solve the enigmas of Providence which the consider- 
ations that occasioned them, present. It is essential to their 
character to find a gloomy satisfaction in the empty and 
fruitless sublimities of that negative result. We return then 
to the point of view which we have adopted ; observing that 
the successive steps (Momente) of the analysis to which it 



SPKINGS OF HUMAN ACTION. 23 

will lead us, will also evolve tlie conditions requisite for an- 
swering the enquiries suggested by the panorama of sin and 
suffering that history unfolds. 

The first remark we have to make, and which — though 
already presented more than once — cannot be too often re- 
peated when the occasion seems to call for it, — is that what 
we call principle, aim, destiny y or the nature and idea of 
Spirit, is something merely general and abstract. Principle — 
Plan of Existence— Law— is a hidden, undeveloped essence, 
which as such — however true in itself — is not completely 
real. Aims, principles, &c., have a place in our thoughts, in 
our subjective design only ; but not yet in the sphere of rea- 
lity. That which exists for itself only, is a possibility, a po- 
tentiality ; but has not yet emerged into Existence. A second 
element must be introduced in order to produce actuality — 
viz. actuation, realization ; and whose motive power is the 
"Will — the activity of man in the widest sense. It is only by 
this activity that that Idea as well as abstract characteristics 
generally, are realised, actualised ; for of themselves they are 
powerless. The motive power that puts them in operation, 
and gives them determinate existence, is the need, instinct, 
inclination, and passion of man. That some conception of 
mine should be developed into act and existence, is my earnest 
desire : I wish to assert my personality in connection with 
it : I wish to be satisfied by its execution. If I am to exert 
myself for any object, it must in some way or other be my 
object. In the accomplishment of such or such designs I 
must at the same time find my satisfaction ; although the 
purpose for which I exert myself includes a complication of 
results, many of which have no interest for me. This is the 
absolute right of personal existence — to find ^^5eZ/' satisfied in 
its activity and labour. If men are to interest themselves 
for anything, they must (so to speak) have part of their ex- 
istence involved in it ; find their individuality gratified by its 
attainment. Here a mistake must be avoided. "We intend 
blame, and justly impute it as a fault, when we say of an 
individual, that he is " interested" (in taking part in such 
or such transactions,) that is, seeks only his private advan- 
tage. In reprehending this we find fault with him for fur- 
thering his personal aims without any regard to a more 
comprehensive design ; of which he takes advantage to pro- 



24 INTEODUCTION. 

mote his own interest, or whicli lie even sacrifices with this 
view. But he who is active m promoting an object, is not 
simplj " interested," but interested in that object itself. Lan- 
guage faithfully expresses this distinction. — Nothing there- 
fore happens, nothing is accomplished, unless the individuals 
concerned, seek their own satisfaction in the issue. They are 
particular units of society ; i.e. they have special needs, in- 
stincts, and interests generally, peculiar to themselves. 
Among these needs are not only such as we usually call ne- 
cessities — the stimuli of individual desire and volition — but 
also those connected with individual views and convictions ; 
or— to use a term expressing less decision — leanings of opi- 
nion ; supposing the impulses of reflection, understanding, 
and reason, to have been awakened. In these cases people 
demand, if *they are to exert themselves in any direction, 
that the object should commend itself to them ; that in point 
of opinion, — whether as to its goodness, justice, advantage, 
profit, — they should be able to '* enter into it" (dabei seyn). 
This is a consideration of especial importance in our age, 
when people are less than formerly influenced by reliance on 
others, and by authority ; when, on the contrary, they de- 
vote their activities to a cause on the ground of their own 
understanding, their independent conviction and opinion. 

AYe assert then that nothing has been accomplished with- 
out interest on the part of the actors ; and — if interest be 
called passion, inasmuch as the whole individuality, to 
the neglect of all other actual or possible interests and 
claims, is devoted to an object with every fibre of volition, 
concentrating all its desires and powers upon it — we may 
affirm absolutely that nothing great in the World has been ac- 
complished viiihowt passion. Two elements, therefore, enter 
into the object of our investigation ; the first the Idea, the 
second the complex of human passions ; the one the warp, 
the other the woof of the vast arras-web of Universal His- 
tory. The concrete mean and union of the two is Liberty, 
under the conditions of morality in a State. We have spoken 
of the Idea of Freedom as the nature of Spirit, and the abso- 
lute goal of History. Passion is regarded as a thing of sinister 
aspect, as more or less immoral. Man is required to have no 
passions. Passion, it is true, is not quite the suitable word 
for wliat I wish to express. I mean here nothing more thao 



SPEINGS OF HUMAN ACTION. 25 

human activity as resulting from private interests — special, 
or if you will, self-seeking dci^igns, — with this qualification, 
that the whole energy of will and character is devoted to their 
attainment ; that other interests, (which would in themselves 
constitute attractive aims) or rather all things else, are sacri- 
ficed to them. The object in question is so bound up with the 
man's will, that it entirely and alone determines the "hue 
of resolution," and is inseparable from.it. It has become 
the very essence of his volition. For a person is a specific 
existence ; not man in general, (a term to which no real ex- 
istence corresponds) but a particular human being. The 
term *' character" likewise expresses this idiosyncrasy of 
Will and Intelligence. But Character comprehends all pecu- 
liarities whatever ; the way in which a person conducts him- 
self in private relations, &c., and is not limited to his 
idiosyncrasy in its practical and active phase. I shall, there- 
fore, use the term *' passion ;" understanding thereby the 
particular bent of character, as far as the peculiarities of 
volition are not limite'd to private interest, but supply the 
impelling and actuating force for accomplishing deeds shared 
in by the community at large. Passion is in the first 
instance the subjective, and therefore the formal side of 
energy, will, and activity — leaving the object or aim still 
undetermined. And there is a similar relation of formality 
to reality in merely individual conviction, individual views, 
individual conscience. It is always a question of essential 
importance, what is the purport of my conviction, what the 
object of my passion, in deciding whether the one or the 
other is of a true and substantial nature. Conversely, if it 
is so, it will inevitably attain actual existence — be realized. 
From this comment on the second essential element in 
the historical embodiment of an aim, we infer — glancing at 
the institution of the State in passing, — that a State 
is then well constituted and internally powerful, when the 
private interest of its citizens is one with the common interest 
of the State ; when the one finds its gratification and reali- 
zation in the other, — a proposition in itself very important. 
But in a State many institutions must be adopted, much 
political machinery invented, accompanied by appropriate 
political arrangements, — necessitating long struggles of 
the understanding before what is really appropriate can be 



26 TNTEODUCTIOS". 

discovered, — involving, moreover, contentions with private 
interest and passions, and a tedious discipline of these latter, 
in order to bring about the desired harmony. The epoch 
when a State attains this harmonious condition, marks the 
period of its bloom, its virtue, its vigour, and its prosperity. 
But the history of mankind does not begin with a conscious 
aim of any kind, as it is the case with the particular circles 
into which men forpa themselves of set purpose. The mere 
social instinct implies a conscious purpose of security for life 
and property ; and when society has been constituted, this 
purpose becomes more comprehensive. The History of the 
World begins with its general aim — the realization of the 
Idea of Spirit — only in an implicit form {an sich) that is, as 
Kature ; a hidden, most profoundly hidden, unconscious 
instinct ; and the whole process of History (as already 
observed), is directed to rendering this unconscious impulse 
a conscious one. Thus appearing in the form of merely 
natural existence, natural will — that which has been called the 
subjective side, — physical craving, instinct, passion, private 
interest, as also opinion and subjective conception, — sponta- 
neously present themselves at the very commencement. 
This vast congeries of volitions, interests and activities, con- 
stitute the instruments and means of the World-Spirit for 
attaining its object ; bringing it to consciousness, and real- 
izing it. And this aim is none other than finding itsdf — 
coming to itself — and contemplating itself in concrete ac- 
tuality. But that those manifestations of vitality on the 
part of individuals and peoples, in which they seek and satisfy 
their own purposes, are, at the same time, the means and 
instruments of a higher and broader purpose of which they 
know nothing, — which they realize unconsciously, — might be 
made a matter of question ; rather has been questioned, 
and in every variety of form ne^^atived, decried and con- 
temned as mere dreaming and " Philosophy." But on this 
point I announced my view at the very outset, and asserted 
our hypothesis, — which, however, will appear in the sequel, 
in the form of a legitimate inference, — and our belief, that 
Beason governs the world, and has consequently governed 
its history. In relation to this independently universal and 
substantial existence — all else is subordinate, subservient to 
it, and the means for its development. — The Union of 



riEST PRINCIPLES. 27 

Universal Abstract Existence generally with the Individual, 
— the Subjective — that this alone is Truth, belongs to the de- 
partment of speculation, and is treated in this general form 
in Logic. — But in the process of the "World's History itself, 
■ — as still incomplete, — the abstract final aim of history is 
not yet made the distinct object of desire and interest. 
While these limited sentiments are still unconscious of the 
purpose they are fulfilling, the universal principle is implicit 
in them, and is realizing itself through them. The question 
also assumes the form of the union of Freedom and Necessity ; 
the latent abstract process of Spirit being regarded as Neces- 
sity, while that which exhibits itself in the conscious will of 
men, as their interest, belongs to the domain of Freedom, 
As the metaphysical connection {i. e. the connection in the 
Idea) of these forms of thought, belongs to Logic, it would 
be out of place to analyze it here. The chief and cardinal 
points only shall be mentioned. 

Philosophy shews that the Idea advances to an infinite 
a.ntithesis ; that, viz. between the Idea in its free, universal 
form — in which it exists for itself — and the contrasted form 
of abstract introversion, reflection on itself, which is formal 
existence-for-self, personality, formal freedom, such as belongs 
to Spirit only. The universal Idea exists thus as the substantial 
totality of things on the one side, and as the abstract essence 
of free volition on the other side. This reflection of the 
mind on itself is individual self-consciousness — the polar 
opposite of the Idea in its general form, and therefore existing 
in absolute Limitation. This polar opposite is consequently 
limitation, particularization, for the universal absolute being ; 
it is the side of its definite existence ; the sphere of its 
formal reality, the sphere of the reverence paid to Grod. — 
To comprehend the absolute connection of this antithesis, is 
the profound task of metaphysics. This Limitation originates 
all forms of particularity of whatever kind. The. formal 
Aolition [of which we have spoken] wills itself; desires to 
ip.akes its own personality valid in all that it purposes and 
does : even the pious individual wishes to be saved and happy. 
This pole of the antithesis, existing for itself, is — in contrast 
with the Absolute Universal Being — a special separate exist- 
ence, taking cognizance of speciality only, and willing that 
alone. In short it plays its part in the region of mere phe- 



28 IIsTEODUCTION'. 

nomena. This is the sphere of particular purposes, in ef- 
fecting which individuals exert themselves on behalf of their 
individuality — give it full play and objective realization. This 
is also the sphere of happiness and its opposite. He is happy 
who finds his condition suited to his special character, will, 
and fancy, and so enjoys himself in that condition. The 
History of the World is not the theatre of happiness. 
Periods of happiness are blank pages in it, for they are periods 
of harmony, — periods when the antithesis is in abeyance. 
Reflection on self, — the Freedom above described — is ab- 
stractly defined as the formal element of the activity of the 
absolute Idea. The realizing activity of which we have 
spoken is the middle term of the Syllogism, one of whose 
extremes is the Universal essence, the Idea, which reposes in 
tlie penetralia of Spirit ; and the other, the complex of 
external things, — objective matter. That activity is the 
medium by which the universal latent principle is translated 
into the domain of objectivity. 

I will endeavour to make what has been said more yivid 
and clear by examples. 

The building of a house is, in the first instance, asubjective 
aim and design. On the other hand we have, as means, the 
several substances required for the work, — Iron, "Wood, 
Stones. The elements are made use of in working up this 
material : fire to melt the iron, wind to blow the fire, water to 
set wheels in motion, in order to cut the wood, &c. The 
result is, that the wind, which has helped to build the house, 
is shut out by the house ; so also are the violence of rains and 
floods, and the destructive powers of fire, so far as the house 
is made fire-proof. The stones and beams obey the law of 
gravity, — press downwards, — and so high walls are carried 
up. Thus the elements are made use of in accordance with 
their nature, and yet to co-operate for a product, by which 
their operation is limited. Thus the passions of men are 
gratified ; they develope themselves and their aims in accord- 
ance with their natural tendencies, and build up the edifice 
of human society ; thus fortifying a position for Eight and 
Order against themselves. 

The connection of events above indicated, involves also the 
fact, that in history an additional result is commonly pro- 
duced by human actions beyond that which they aim at and 



ILLUSTRATIONS. 



obtain — that which they immediately recognise and desire. 
They gratify their own interest ; but something farther is 
thereby accomplished, latent in the actions in question, though 
not present to their consciousness, and not included in their 
design. An analogous example is offered in the case of a 
man who, from a feeling of revenge, — perhaps not an unjust 
one^ but produced by injury on the other's part, — burns that 
other man's house. A connection is immediately established 
between the deed itself and a train of circumstances not 
directly included in it, taken abstractedly. In itself it 
consisted in merely presenting a small flame to a small 
portion of a beam. Events not involved in that simple act 
follow of themselves. The part of the beam which was set 
fir© to is connected with its remote portions ; the beam itself 
is united with the woodwork of the house generally, and this 
with other houses ; so that a wide conflagration ensues, which 
destroys the goods and chattels of many other persons besides 
his against whom the act of revenge was first directed ; per- 
haps even costs not a few men their lives. This lay neither 
in the deed abstractedly, nor in the design of the man who 
committed it. But the action has a further general bearing. 
In the design of the doer it was only revenge executed 
against an individual in the destruction of his property, but 
it is moreover a crime, and that involves punishment also. 
This may not have been present to the mind of the perpe- 
trator, still less in his intention; but his deed itself, the 
general principles it calls into play, its substantial content 
entails it. By this example I wish only to impress on you 
the consideration, that in a simple act, something farther 
may be implicated than lies in the intention and conscious- 
ness of the agent. The example before us involves, however, 
this additional consideration, that the substance of the act, 
consequently we may say the act itself, recoils upon the per- 
petrator, ~ reacts upon him with destructive tendency. This 
union of the two extremes — the embodiment of a general idea 
in the form of direct reality, and the elevation of a speciality 
into connection withuniversal truth— is brought to pass, at 
first sight, under the conditions of an utter diversity of 
nature between the two, and an indifference of the one 
extreme towards the other. The aims which the agents set 
before them are limited and special ; but it must be remarked 



30 INTRODUCTIOTT. 

that the agents themselves are intelligent thinking beingsi 
The purport of their desires is interwoven with general, essen^ 
tial considerations of justice, good, duty, &c ; for mere 
desire — volition in its rough and savage forms — falls not 
within the scene and sphere of Universal History. Those 
general considerations, which form at the same time a norm 
for directing aims and actions, have a determinate purport ; 
for such an abstraction as " good for its own sake," has no 
place in living reality. If men are to act, they must not only 
intend the Good, but must have decided for themselves 
whether this or that particular thing is a Good. "What special 
course of action, however, is good or not, is determined, as 
regards the ordinary contingencies of private life, by the laws 
and customs of a State ; and here no great difficulty is pre- 
sented. Each individual has his position ; he knows on 
the whole what a just, honourable course of conduct is. As 
to ordinary, private relations, the assertion that it is difficult 
to choose the right and good, — the regarding it as the mark 
of an exalted morality to find difficulties and raise scruples 
on that score, — may be set down to an evil or perverse will, 
which seeks to evade duties not in themselves of a per- 
plexing nature ; or, at any rate, to an idly reflective habit of 
mind — where a feeble will affords no sufficient exercise to 
the faculties, — leaving them therefore to find occupation 
\\ithin themselves, and to expend themselves on moral self- 
adulation. 

It is quite otherwise with the comprehensive relations 
that History has to do with. In this sphere are presented 
those momentous collisions between existing, acknowledged 
duties, laws, and rights, and those contingencies which are 
adverse to this fixed system ; which assail and even destroy 
its foundations and existence ; whose tenor may nevertheless 
seem good, — on the large scale advantageous,^yes, even in- 
dispensable and necessary. These contingencies realise 
themselves in History : they involve a general principle of a 
different order from that on which depends the permanence 
of a people or a State. This principle is an essential phase 
in the development of the creating Idea, of Truth striving and 
urging towards [consciousness of] itself. Historical men — 
JVorldSistorical Individuals — are those in whose aims such 
a general principle lies. 



GEEAT MEN. 31 

Caesar, in danger of losing a position, not perhaps at that 
time of superiority, yet at least of equality with the others 
who were at the head of the State, and of succumbing to 
those who were just on the point of becoming his enemies, 
— belongs essentially to this category. These enemies — who 
were at the same time pursuing their personal aims — had the 
form of the constitution, and the power conferred by an ap- 
pearance of justice, on their side. Csesar was contending for 
the maintenance of his position, honour, and safety ; and, 
since the power of his opponents included the sovereignty 
over the provinces of the B,oman Empire, his victory secured 
for him the conquest of that entire Empire ; and he thus be- 
came — though leaving the form of the constitution— the 
Autocrat of the State. That which secured for him the exe- 
cution of a design, which in the first instance was of negative 
import — the Autocracy of Eome, — was, however, at the same 
time an independently necessary feature in the history of 
Eome and of the world. It was not, then, his private gain 
merely, but an unconscious impulse that occasioned the 
accomplishment of that for which the time was ripe. Such 
are all great historical men, — whose own particular aims 
involve those large issues which are the will of the World- 
Spirit. They may be called Heroes, inasmuch as they have 
derived their purposes and their vocation, not from the calm, 
regular course of things, sanctioned by the existing order ; 
but from a concealed fount — one w^hich has not attained to 
phenomenal, present existence, — from that inner Spirit, still 
hidden beneath the surface, which, impinging on the outer 
world as on a shell, bursts it in pieces, because it is another 
kernel than that which belonged to the shell in question. 
They are men, therefore, who appear to draw the impulse of 
their life from themselves ; and whose deeds have produced 
a condition of things and a complex of historical relations 
which appear to be only their interest, and their work. 

Such individuals had no consciousness of the general 
Idea they were unfolding, while prosecuting those aims of 
theirs ; on the contrary, they were practical, political men. 
But at the same time they were thinking men, who had an 
insight into the requirements of the time — luhat tvas ripe 
for development. This was the very Truth for their age, for 
tlieir world ; the species next in order, so to speak, and 



32 lyTJiODUCTION. 

wliicli was already formed in the womb of time. It wag 
theirs to know this nascent principle ; the necessary, directly 
sequent step in progress, which their world was to take ; to 
make this their aim, and to expend their energy in promot- 
ing it. World-historical men — the Heroes of an epoch — 
must, therefore, be recognised as its clear-sighted ones ; thew 
deeds, their words are the best of that time. Grreat men 
have formed purposes to satisfy themselves, not others. 
Whatever prudent designs and counsels they might have 
learned from others, would be the more limited and incon- 
sistent features in their career ; for it was they who best 
understood affairs ; from whom otliers learned, and approved, 
or at least acquiesced in — their policy. Tor that Spirit which 
had taken this fresh step in history is the inmost soul of all 
individuals; but in a state of unconsciousness which the 
great men in question aroused. Their fellows, therefore, 
follow these soul-leaders ; for they feel the irresistible power 
of their own inner Spirit thus embodied. If we go on to 
cast a look at the fate of these World-Historical persons, 
whose vocation it was to be the agents of the World-Spirit, 
— we shall find it to have been no happy one. They attained 
no calm enjoyment ; their whole life was labour and trouble ; 
their whole nature was nought else but their master-passion. 
When their object is attained they fall off like empty hulls 
from the kernel. They die early, like Alexander ; they are 
murdered, like Caesar ; transported to St. Helena, like 
Napoleon. This fearful consolation — that historical men have 
not enjoyed what is called happiness, and of which only pri- 
vate life (and this may be passed under very various external 
circumstances) is capable, — this consolation those may draw 
from history, who stand in need of it; and it is craved by 
Envy — vexed at what is great and transcendant, — striving, 
therefore, to depreciate it, and to find some flaw in it. Thus 
u modern times it has been demonstrated ad nauseam that 
princes are generally unhappy on their thrones ; in conside- 
ration of which the possession of a throne is tolerated, and 
men acquiesce in the fact that not themselves- but the per- 
sonages in question are its occupants. The Free Man, we 
may observe, is not envious, but gladly recognises what i^ 
great and exalted, and rejoices that it exists. 

It is in the light of those common elements which con' 



GEEAT MEN. 38 

stitute the interest and therefore the passions of individuals, 
that these historical men are to be regarded. They are great 
men, because they willed and accomplished something great; 
not a mere fancy, a mere intention, but that which met the 
case and fell in with the needs of the age. This mode of 
considering them also excludes the so-called ''psychological" 
view, which — serving the purpose of envy most effectually — 
contrives so to refer all actions to the heart, — to bring 
them under such a subjective aspect — as that th^^ir authors 
appear to have done everything under the impulse of some 
passion, mean or grand, — some morbid craving ^ — and on 
account of these passions and cravings to have been not 
moral men. Alexander of Macedon partly subdued G-reece, 
and then Asia ; therefore he was possessed by a morhid crav- 
ing for conquest. He is alleged to have acted from a craving 
for fame, for conquest ; and the proof that these were the 
impelling motives is that he did that which resulted in fame. 
What pedagogue has not demonstrated of Alexander the 
Great — of Julius Caesar — that they were instigated by such 
passions, and were consequently immoral men ?— whence the 
conclusion immediately follows that he, the pedagogue, is a 
better man than they, because he has not such passions ; a 
proof of which lies in the fact that he does not conquer 
Asia, — vanquish Darius and Porus, — but while he enjoys life 
himself, lets others enjoy it too. These psychologists are 
particularly fond of contemplating those pecularities of great 
historical figures which appertain to them as private persons. 
Man must eat and drink ; he sustains relations to friends 
and acquaintances ; he has passing impulses and ebullitions 
of temper. " JSTo man is a hero to his valet-de-chambre," is 
a weU-knowQ proverb ; I have added — and Groethe repeated 
it ten years later — " but not because the former is no hero, 
but because the latter is a valet." He takes off the hero's 
boots, assists him to bed, knows that he prefers cham- 
pagne, &c. Historical personages waited upon in historical 
literature by such psychological valets, come poorly off; they 
are brought down by these their attendants to a level with 
— or rather a few degrees below the level of — the morality 
of such exquisite discerners of spirits. The Thersites of 
Homer who abuses the kings is a standing figure for all 
times. Blows — that is beating with a solid cudgel— he docs 



34 INTEODTJCTION. 

not get in every age, as in the Homeric one ; but his envy, 
his egotism, is the thorn which he has to carry in his flesh ; 
and the undying worm that gnaws him is tlie tormenting 
consideration that his excellent views and vituperations 
remain absolutely without result in the world. But our 
satisfaction at the fate of Thersitism also, may have its 
sinister side. 

A AVorld-historical individual is not so unwise as to indulge 
a variety of wishes to divide his regards. He is devoted to 
the One Aim, regardless of all else. It is even possible that 
such men may treat other great, even sacred interests, incon- 
siderately ; conduct which is indeed obnoxious to moral repre- 
hension. But so mighty a form must trample down many 
an innocent flower — crush to pieces many an object in its 
path. 

The special interest of passion is thus inseparable from 
the active development of a general principle : for it is from 
the special and determinate and from its negation, that the 
Universal results. Particularity contends with its like, and 
some loss is involved in the issue. It is not the general idea 
that is implicated in opposition and combat, and that is 
exposed to danger. It remains in the background, untouched 
and uninjured. This may be called the cunning of reason^ — 
that it sets the passions to work for itself, while that which 
develops its existence through such impulsion pays the 
penalty, and suffers loss. For it \^ phenomenal being that is 
so treated, and of this, part is of no value, part is positive 
and real. The particular is for the most part of too trifling 
value as compared with the general : individuals are sacri- 
ficed and abandoned. The Idea pays the penalty of deter- 
minate existence and of corruptibility, not from itself, but 
from the passions of individuals. 

But though we might tolerate the idea that individuals, 
their desires and the gratification of them, are thus sacri- 
ficed, and their happiness given up to the empire of chance, 
to which it belongs ; and that as a general rule, individuals 
come under the category of means to an ulterior end, ^— there 
is one aspect of human individuality which wc should hesitate 
to regard in that subordinate light, even in relation to the 
highest ; since it Is absolutely no subordinate element, but 
exists in those individuals as inherently eternal and divine. 



CLAIMS OF MOEALITY, ABSOLUTE. 35 

I mean morality, ethics, religion. Even when speaking of 
the realization of the great ideal aim by means of indivi- 
duals, the subjective element in them — their interest and that 
of their cravings and impulses, their views and judgments, 
though exhibited as the merely formal side of their exist- 
ence, — was spoken of as having an infinite right to be con- 
sulted. The first idea that presents itself in speaking of 
means is that of something external to the object, and hav- 
ing no share in the object itself. But merely natural things — 
even the commonest lifeless objects — used as means, must be 
of such a kind as adapts them to their purpose ; they must 
possess something in common with it. Human beings least 
of all, sustain the bare external relation of mere means to 
the great ideal aim. Not only do they in the very act of 
realising it, make it the occasion of satisfying personal desires, 
whose purport is diverse from that aim — but they share in 
that ideal aim itself ; and are for that very reason objects of 
their own existence ; not formally merely, as the world of 
living beings generally is, — whose individual life is essentially 
subordinate to that of man, and is properly used up as an 
instrument. Men, on the contrary, are objects of existence 
to themselves, as regards the intrinsic import of the aim in 
question. To this order belongs that in them which we would 
exclude from the category of mere means,— Morality, Ethics, 
Eeligion. That is to say, man is an object of existence in 
himself only in virtue of the Divine that is in him, — that which 
was designated at the outset as Reason ; which, in view 
of its activity and power of self-determination, was called 
Freedom. And we affirm — without entering at present on the 
proof of the assertion — that EeHgion, Morality, &c. have their 
foundation and source in that principle, and so are essentially 
elevated above all alien necessity and chance. And here we 
must remark that individuals, to the extent of their freedom, 
are responsible for the depravation and enfeeblement of 
morals and religion. This is the seal of the absolute and 
sublime destiny of man — that he knows what is good and 
what is evil ; that is, his destiny, his very abihty to will 
either good or evil, — in one word, that he is the subject of 
moral imputation, imputation not only of evil, but of good ; 
and not only concerning this or that particular matter, and 
all that happens ah extra, but also the good and evil attach- 



36 INTEODUCTIOK. 

ing to his individual freedom. The brute alone is simply 
innocent. It would, however, demand an extensive expla- 
nation — as extensive as the analysis of moral freedom itself — 
to preclude or obviate all the misunderstandings which the 
statement that what is called innocence imports the entire 
unconsciousness of evil — is wont to occasion. 

In contemplating the fate which virtue, morality, even 
piety experience in history, we must not fall into the Litany 
of Lamentations, that the good and pious often — or for the 
most part — fare ill in the world, while the evil-disposed and 
wicked prosper. The term prosperity is used in a variety 
of meanings — riches, outward honour, and the like. But in 
speaking of something which in and for itself constitutes an 
aim of existence, that so-called well or ill-faring of these or 
those isolated individuals cannot be regarded as an essential 
element in the rational order of the universe. With more 
justice than happiness, — or a fortunate environment for in- 
dividuals,— it is demanded of the grand aim of the world's 
existence, that it should foster, nay involve the execution 
and I'atification of good, moral, righteous purposes. "What 
makes men morally discontented (a discontent, by the bye, 
on which they somewhat pride themselves), is that they do 
not find the present adapted to the realization of aims which 
they hold to be right and just (more especially in modern 
times, ideals of political 'constitutions); they contrast 
unfavourably things as they are, with their idea of things as 
they ought to be. In this case it is not private interest 
nor passion that desires gratification, but Reason, Justice, 
Liberty ; and equipped with this title, the demand in ques- 
tion assumes a lofty bearing, and readily adopts a position 
not merely of discontent, but of open revolt against the 
actual condition of the world. To estimate such a feeling 
and such views aright, the demands insisted upon, and the 
very dogmatic opinions asserted, must be examined. At no 
time so much as in our own, have such general principles and 
notions been advanced, or with greater assurance. If in days 
gone by, history seems to present itself as a struggle of pas- 
sions ; in our time — though displays of passion are not want- 
ing — it exhibits partly a predominance of the struggle of 
notions assuming the authority of principles ; partly that of 
passions and interests essentially subjective, but under the 



HEALIZATION OF THE IDEAL. 37 

mask of such higher sanctions. The pretensions thus con- 
tended for as legitimate in the name of that which has beeu 
stated as the ultimate aim of Eeason, pass accordingly, fot 
absolute aims, — to the same extent as Religion, Morals, 
Ethics. Nothing, as before remarked, is now more common 
than the complaint that the ideals which imagination sets 
up are not realized — that these glorious dreams are destroyed 
by cold actuality. These Ideals — which in the voyage of life 
founder on the rocks of hard reality — may be in the first 
instance only subjective, and belong to the idiosyncrasy of 
the individual, imagining himself the highest and wisest. Such 
do not properly belong to this category. Tor the fancies 
which the individual in his isolation indulges, cannot be the 
model for universal reality ; just as universal law is not de- 
signed for the units of the mass. These as such may, in fact, 
find their interests decidedly thrust into the background. 
But by the term " Ideal," we also understand the ideal of 
Beason, of the Good, of the True. Poets, as e.ff. Schiller, 
have painted such ideals touchingly and with strong emotion, 
and with the deeply melancholy conviction that they 
could not be realized. In affirming, on the contrary, that 
the Universal Keason does realize itself, we have indeed 
nothing to do with the individual empirically regarded. 
That admits of degrees of better and worse, since here 
chance and speciality have received authority from the Idea 
to exercise their monstrous power. Much, therefore, in 
particular aspects of the grand phenomenon might be 
found fault with. This subjective fault-finding, — which, how- 
ever, only keeps in view the individual and its deficiency, 
without taking notice of Beason pervading the whole, — is 
easy ; and inasmuch as it asserts an excellent intention with 
regard to the good of the whole, and seems to result from 
a kindly heart, it feels authorized to give itself airs and as- 
sume great consequence. It is easier to discover a deficiency 
in individuals, in states, and in Providence, than to see their 
real import and value. Por in this merely negative fault- 
finding a proud position is taken, — one which overlooks the 
object, without having entered into it, — without having com- 
.prehended its positive aspect. Age generally makes men 
more tolerant ; youth is always discontented. The tolerance 
of age is the result of the ripeness of a judgment which, not 



38 INTRODUCTION. 

merely as tlie result of indifference, is satisfied even with 
what is inferior^ but, more deeply taught by the grave ex- 
perience of life, has been led to perceive the substantial, 
solid worth of the object in question. The insight then to 
which — in contradistinction from those ideals — philosophy is 
to lead us, is, that the real world is as it ought to be — that 
the truly good— the universal divine reason — is not a mere 
abstraction, but a vital principle capable of realising itself. 
This Good, this Beason, in its most concrete form, is Grod. 
God governs the world ; the actual working of his govern- 
ment — the carrying out of his plan — is the History of the 
AVorld. This plan philosophy strives to comprehend ; for 
only that which has been developed as the result of it, pos- 
sesses lond fide reality. That which does not accord with 
it, is negative, worthless existence. Before the pure light of 
this divine Idea — which is no mere Ideal — the phantom of a 
world whose events are an incoherent concourse of fortuitous 
circumstances, utterly vanishes. Philosophy wishes to dis- 
cover the substantial purport, the real side of the divine idea, 
and to justify the so much despised Eeality of things ; fo; 
Reason is the comprehension of the Divine work. But as to 
what concerns the perversion, corruption, and ruin of reli- 
gious, ethical and moral purposes, and states of society 
generally, it must be aflSrmed, that in their essence these are 
infinite and eternal ; but that the forms they assume may be 
of a limited order, and consequently belong to the domain 
of mere nature, and be subject to the sway of chance. 
They are therefore perishable, and exposed to decay and 
corruption. Eeligion and morality — in the same way as in- 
herently universal essences — have the peculiarity of being 
present in the individual soul, in the full extent of their Idea, 
and therefore truly and really ; although they may not mani- 
fest themselves in it in extenso, and are not applied to fully 
developed relations. The religion, the morality of a limited 
sphere of life — that of a shepherd or a peasant, e.g. — in its in- 
tensive concentration and limitation to a few perfectly simple 
relations of life, — has infinite worth ; the same worth as the 
religion and morality of extensive knowledge, and of an 
existence rich in the compass of its relations and actions. 
This inner focus — this simple region of the claims of subjective 
freedom, — the home of volition, resolution, and action,— the 



POSITIYE EXISTENCE Or EEASOS". 39 

abstract sphere of conscience, — that which comprises the 
responsibility and moral value of the individual, remains 
untouched ; and is quite shut out from the noisy din of the 
World's History — includingnot merely external and temporal 
changes, but also those entailed by the absolute necessity in- 
separable from the realization of the Idea of Freedom itself. 
But as a general truth this must be regarded as settled, 
that whatever in the world possesses claims as noble and 
glorious, has nevertheless a higher existence above it. The 
claim of the World-Spirit rises above all special claims. 

These observations may suffice in reference to the means 
which the World-Spirit uses for realizing its Idea. Stated 
simply and abstractly, this mediation involves the activity 
of personal existences in whom Eeason is present as their 
absolute, substantial being ; but a basis, in the first instance, 
still obscure and unknown to them. But the subject becomes 
more complicated and difficult when we regard individuals 
not merely in their aspect of activity, but more concretely, 
in conjunction with a particular manifestation of that activity 
in their religion and morality, — forms of existence which are 
intimately connected T^dth Keason, and share in its absolute 
claims. Here the relation of mere means to an end disappears, • 
and the chief bearings of this seeming difficulty in reference 
to the absolute aim of Spirit, have been briefly considered. 

(3.) The third point to be analysed is, therefore — what 
is the object to be realized by these means ; i. e. what is the 
form it assumes in the realm of reality. We have spoken of 
means ; but in the carrying out of a subjective, limited aim, 
we have also to take into consideration the element of a 
material y either already present or which has to be procured. 
Thus the question would arise : What is the material in 
which the Ideal of B-eason is wrought out ? The primary 
answer would be, — Personality itself — human desires — Sub- 
jectivity generally. In human knowledge and volition, as 
its material element, Reason attains positive existence. 
We have considered subjective volition where it has an 
object which is the truth and essence of a reality, viz. where 
it constitutes a great world-historical passion. As a subjec- 
tive will, occupied with limited passions, it is dependent, and 
can gratify its desires only within the limits of this depen- 
dence. But the subjective will has also a substantial life — ■ 



40 INTEODUCTTON. 

a reality, — iii which it moves in the region of essential being, 
and has the essential itself as the object of its exist- 
ence. This essential being is the union of the subjective 
with the rational "Will : it is the moral Whole, the State, which 
is that form of reality in which the individual has and enjoys 
his freedom ; but on the condition of his recognizing, believing 
in and willing that which is common to the "Whole. And this 
must not be understood as if the subjective will of the social 
unit attained its gratification and enjoyment through that 
common Will ; as if this were a means provided for its benefit ; 
as if the individual, in his relations to other individuals, thus 
limited his freedom, in order that this universal limitation — 
the mutual constraint of all — might secure a small space of 
liberty for each. Bather, we affirm, are Law, Morality, 
Grovernment. and they alone, the positive reality and com- 
pletion of Freedom. Freedom of a low and limited order, 
is mere caprice; which finds its exercise in the sphere of 
particular and limited desires. 

Subjective volition — Passion — is that which sets men in 
activity, that which effects " practical" realization. The Idea is 
the inner spring of action ; the State is the actually existing, 
realized moral life. For it is the Unity of the universal, 
essential Will, with that of the individual ; and this is '* Mo- 
rality." The Individual living in this unity has a moral 
life ; possesses a value that consists in this substantiality 
alone. Sophocles in his Antigone, says, " The divine com- 
mands are not of yesterday, nor of to-day ; no, they have an 
infinite existence, and no one could say whence they came." 
The laws of morality are not accidental, but are the essen- 
tially Eational. It is the very object of the State that what 
is essential in the practical activity of men, and in their dis- 
positions, should be duly recognized; that it should have a 
manifest existence, and maintain its position. It is the abso- 
lute interest of Keason that this moral Whole should exist ; 
and herein lies the justification and merit of heroes who have 
founded states, — however rude these may have been. In the 
history of the World, only those peoples can come under our 
notice which form a state. For it must be understood that 
this latter is the realization of Freedom, i.e. of the absolute 
final aim, and that it exists for its own sake. It must further 
be understood that all the worth which the human being pes- 



IDEA. OF THE STATE. 41 

sesses — all spiritual reality, he possesses only through the 
State. Por his spiritual reality consists in this, that his own 
essence — Beason — is ohjectively present to him, that it pos- 
sesses objective immediate existence for him. Thus only ia 
he fully conscious ; thus only is he a partaker of morality — of 
a just and moral social and political life. For Truth is the 
Unity of the universal and subjective "Will ; and the Universal 
is to be found in the State, in its laws, its universal and ra- 
tional arrangements. The State is the Divine Idea as it 
exists on Earth. "We have in it, therefore, the object of 
History in a more definite shape than before ; that in which 
Freedom obtains objectivity, and lives in the enjoyment of 
this objectivity. Eor Law is the objectivity of Spirit ; volition 
in its true form. Only that will which obeys law, is free ; 
for it obeys itself — it is independent and so free. "When the 
State or our country constitutes a community of existence ; 
when the subjective will of man submits to laws, — the contra- 
diction between Liberty and Necessity vanishes. The Ea- 
tional has necessary existence, as being the reality and 
substance of things, and we are free in recognizing it as law, 
and following it as the substance of our own being. The 
objective and the subjective will are then reconciled, 
and present one identical homogeneous whole. For the 
morality (Sittlichkeit) of the State is not of that ethical 
(moralische) reflective kind, in which one's own conviction 
bears sway; this latter is rather the peculiarity of the 
modern time, while the true antique morality is based on the 
principle of abiding by one's duty [to the state at large]. 
An Athenian citizen did what was required of him, as it 
were from instinct: but if I reflect on the object of my 
activity, I must have the consciousness that my will has 
been called into exercise. But morality is Duty — substan- 
tial Bight-:-a ^^ second nature" as it has been just'iy called ; 
for the first nature of man is his primary merely animal ex- 
istence. 

The development in extenso of the Idea of the State be- 
longs to the Philosophy of Jurisprudence ; but it must be 
observed that in the theories of our time various errors are 
current respecting it, which pass for established truths, and 
have become fixed prejudices. "We will mention only a few 
of them, giving prominence to such as have a reference to 
the object of our history. 



42 INTRODUCTION. 

The error which first meets us is the direct contradictory 
of our principle that the state presents the realization of 
Freedom ; the opinion, viz., that man is free by nature^ but 
that in society, \nt\\e State — to which nevertheless he is irresis- 
tibly impelled — he must limit this natural freedom. That man 
is free by Nature is quite correct in one sense ; viz., that he is 
so according to the Idea of Humanity ; but we imply thereby 
that he is such only in virtue of his destiny — that he has an 
undeveloped power to become such ; for the " Nature" of an 
object is exactly synonymous with its " Idea." But the view 
in question imports more than this. When man is spoken 
of as " free by Nature," the mode of his existence as well as 
his destiny is implied. His merely natural and primary con- 
dition is intended. In this sense a " state of Nature" is as- 
sumed in which mankind at large are in the possession of 
their natural rights with the unconstrained exercise and enjoy- 
ment of their freedom. This assumption is not indeed raised 
to the dignity of the historical fact ; it would indeed be dif- 
ficult, were the attempt seriously made, to point out any such 
condition as actually existing, or as having ever occurred. 
Examples of a savage state of life can be pointed out, but 
they are marked by brutal passions and deeds of violence ; 
while, however rude and simple their conditions, they in- 
volve social arrangements which (to use the common phrase) 
restrain freedom. That assumption is one of those nebulous 
images which theory produces ; an idea which it cannot avoid 
originating, but which it fathers upon real existence, without 
sufficient historical justification. 

What we find such a state of Nature to be in actual experi- 
ence, answers exactly to the Idea of a weereZy natural condition. 
Freedom as the ideal of that which is original and natural, 
does not exist as original and natural, Eather must it be 
first sought out and won ; and that by an incalculable medial 
discipline of the intellectual and moral powers. The state 
of Nature is, therefore, predominantly that of injustice and 
violence, of untamed natural impulses, of inhuman deeds and 
feelings. Limitation is certainly produced by Society and 
the State, but it is a limitation of the mere brute emotiona 
and rude instincts ; as also, in a more advanced stage of cul- 
ture, of the premeditated self-will of caprice and passion. 
This kind of constraint is part of the instrumentality by 



PEINCIPLE OF THE FAMILY. 43 

whicli ouiy, the consciousness of freedom and the desire for 
Its attainment, in its true — that is JR-ational and Ideal form — 
can be obtained. To the Ideal of Freedom, Law and Morality 
are indispensably requisite; andthey are in and for themselves, 
universal existences, objects and aims ; which are discovered 
only by the activity of thought, separating itself from the merely 
sensuous, and developing itself, in opposition thereto ; and 
which must on the other hand, be introduced into and incor- 
porated with the originally sensuous will, and that contrarily 
to its natural inclination. The perpetually recurring misap- 
prehension of Freedom consists in regarding that term only in 
its formal, subjective sense, abstracted from its essential 
objects and aims ; thus a constraint put upon impulse, de- 
sire, passion— pertaining to the particular individual as such 
— a limitation of caprice and self-will is regarded as a fet- 
tering of Freedom. We should on the contrary look upon 
such limitation as the indispensable proviso of emancipation. 
Society and the State are the very conditions in which Free- 
dom is realized. 

We must notice a second view, contravening the princi- 
ple of the development of moral relations into a legal form. 
The pair iarchal condition is regarded — either in reference to 
the entire race of man, or to some branches of it — as exclu- 
sively that condition of things, in which the legal element is 
combined with a due recognition of the moral and emotional 
parts of our nature; and in which justice as united with these, 
truly and really influences the intercourse of the social units. 
The basis of the patriarchal condition is the family relation ; 
which develops t\\Q primary form of conscious morality, suc- 
ceeded by that of the State as its second phase. The patri- 
archal condition is one of transition, in which the family has 
already advanced to the position of a race or people ; where 
the union, therefore, has already ceased to be simply a bond 
of love and confidence, and has become one of plighted ser- 
vice. We must first examine the ethical principle of the 
Family. The Family may be reckoned as virtually a single 
person ; since its members have either mutually surrendered 
their individual personality, (and consequently their legal 
position towards each other, with the rest of their particular 
interests and desires) as in the case of the Parents ; or have 
not yet attained such an independent personality, — (the 



44 INTRODUCTIOJT. 

Children, — who are primarily in that merely natural condition 
already mentioned. They live, therefore, in a unity of feel- 
ing, love, confidence, and faith in each other. And in a rela- 
tion of mutual love, the one individual has the consciousness 
df himself in the consciousness of the other ; he lives out of 
self ; and in this mutual self-renunciation each regains the 
life that had been virtually transferred to the other; gains, 
in fact, that other's existence and his own, as involved with 
that other. The farther interests connected with the neces- 
sities and external concerns of life, as well as the develop- 
ment that has to take place within their circle, i. e. of the 
children, constitute a common object for the members of the 
Family. The Spirit of the Family — the Penates — form one 
substantial being, as much as the Spirit of a People in the 
State ; and morality in both cases consists in a feeling, a 
consciousness, and a will, not limited to individual per- 
sonality and interest, but embracing the common interests 
of the members generally. But this unity is in the case of 
the Family essentially one o^ feeling ; not advancing beyond 
tlie limits of the merely natural. The piety of the Family 
relation should be respected in the highest degree by the 
State ; by its means the State obtains as its members indi- 
viduals who are already moral (for as mere persons they are 
not) and who in uniting to form a state bring with them 
that sound basis of a political edifice — the capacity of feeling 
one with a Whole. But the expansion of the Family to a 
patriarchal unity carries us beyond the ties of blood-rela- 
tionship — the simply natural elements of that basis ; and 
outside of these limits the members of the community must 
enter upon the position of independent personality. A re- 
view of the patriarchal condition, in extenso, would lead us 
to give special attention to the Theocratical Constitution. 
The head of the patriarchal clan is also its priest. If the 
Family in its general relations, is not yet separated from 
civic society and the state, the separation of religion from it 
has also not yet taken place ; and so much the less since the 
piety of the hearth is itself a profoundly subjective state of 
feeling. 

"We have considered two aspects of Freedom, — the objective 
and the subjective ; if, therefore. Freedom is asserted to con- 
sist in the individuals of a State all agreeing in its arrange* 



FALLACIOUS TIEWS OF THE STATE. 45 

ments, it is evident that only the subjective aspect is regarded. 
The natural inference from this principle is, that no law can 
be valid without the approval of all. This difficulty is at- 
tempted to be obviated by the decision that the minority 
must yield to the majority ; the majority therefore bear the 
sway. But long ago J. J. Kousseau remarked, that in that 
case there would be no longer freedom, for the will of the 
minority would cease to be respected. At the Polish Diet 
each single member had to give his consent before any politi- 
cal step could be taken ; and this kind of freedom it was that 
ruined the State. Besides, it is a dangerous and false preju- 
dice, that the People alone have reason and insight, and 
know what justice is ; for each popular faction may represent 
itself as the People, and the question as to what constitutes 
the State is one of advanced science, and not of popular 
decision. 

If the principle of regard for the individual will is recog- 
nized as the only basis of political liberty, viz., that nothing 
should be done by or for the State to which all the members 
of the body politic have not given their sanction, we have, 
properly speaking, no Constitution. The only arrangement 
that would be necessary, would be, first, a centre having no 
will of its own, but which should take into consideration 
what appeared to be the necessities of the State ; and, 
secondly, a contrivance for calling the members of the State 
together, for taking the votes, and for performing the arith- 
metical operations of reckoning and comparing the number 
of votes for the different propositions, and thereby deciding 
upon them. The State is an abstraction, having even its 
generic existence in its citizens ; but it is an actuality, and 
its simply generic existence must embody itself in individual 
will and activity. The want of government and political 
administration in general is felt ; this necessitates the selec- 
tion and separation from the rest of those who have to take 
the helm in political affairs, to decide concerning them, and 
to give orders to other citizens, with a view to the execution 
of their plans. If e.g. even the people in a Democracy 
resolve on a war, a general must head the army. It is only bv 
a Constitution that the abstraction — the State — attains lite 
and reality ; but this involves the distinction between those 
who command and those who obey. — Yet obedience seema 



46 INTRODUCTIOF. 

inconsistent with libert}^, and those who command appear to 
do the very opposite of that which the fundamental idea of 
tlie State, viz, that of freedom, requires. It is, however, 
urged that, — though the distinction between commanding and 
obeying is absolutely necessary, because affairs could not go 
on without it — and indeed this seems only a compulsory limi- 
tation, external to and even contravening freedom in the 
abstract — the constitution should be at least so framed, 
that the citizens may obey as little as possible, and the 
smallest modicum of free volition be left to the commands 
of the superiors ; — that the substance of that for which 
subordination is necessary, even in its most important bear- 
ings, should be decided and resolved on by the People — by 
the will of many or of all the citizens ; though it is supposed 
to be thereby provided that the State should be possessed of 
vigour and strength as a reality — an individual unity. — The 
primary consideration is, then, the distinction between the 
governing and the governed, and political constitutions in the 
abstract have been rightly divided into Monarchy, Aristocracy, 
and Democracy ; which gives occasion, however, to the remark 
that Monarchy itself must be further divided into Des- 
potism and Monarchy proper ; that in all the divisions to 
which the leading Idea gives rise, only the generic character 
is to be made prominent, — it being not intended thereby that 
the particular category under review should be exhausted as 
a Form, Order, or Kind in its concrete development. But 
especially it must be observed, that the above-mentioned divi- 
sions admit of a multitude of particular modifications,— not 
only such as lie within the limits of those classes themselves, 
— but also such as are mixtures of several of these essentially 
distinct classes, and which are consequently misshapen, un- 
stable, and inconsistent forms. In such a collision, the con- 
cerning question is, what is the hest constitution ; that is, by 
what arrangement, organization, or mechanism of the power of 
the State its object can be most surely attained. This object 
may indeed be variously understood ; for instance, as the 
calm eujoyment of life on the part of the citizens, or as Uni- 
versal Happiness. Such aims have suggested the so-called 
Ideals of Constitutions, and, — as a particular branch of the 
subject, — Ideals of the Education of Princes (Fenelon), or of 
the governing body — the aristocracy at large (Plato) ; for the 



CONSTITUTIONS DEPEND ON NATIONAL GENIUS. 47 

cbief point they treat of is tlie condition of those subjects 
who stand at the head of affairs ; and in these Ideals the con- 
crete details of political organization are not at all con- 
sidered. The inquiry into the best constitution is frequently 
treated as if not only the theory were an affair of subjective 
independent conviction, but as if the introduction of a con- 
stitution recognized as' the best, — or as superior to others, 
— could be the result of a resolve adopted in this theoretical 
manner ; as if the form of a constitution were a matter of free 
choice, determined by nothing else but reflection. Of this 
artless fashion was that deliberation, — not indeed of the 
Persian people, but of the Persian grandees, who had con- 
spired to overthrow the pseudo-Smerdis and the Magi, after 
their undertaking had succeeded, and when there was no 
scion of the royal family living, — as to what constitution 
they should introduce into Persia ; and Herodotus gives an 
equally naive account of this deliberation. 

In the present day, the Constitution of a country and 
people is not represented as so entirely dependent on free 
and deliberate choice. The fundamental but abstractly 
(and therefore imperfectly; entertained conception of Pree- 
dom, has resulted in the Eepublic being very generally re- 
garded — in theory — as the only just and true political consti- 
tution. Many even, who occupy elevated official positions 
under monarchical constitutions — so far from being opposed 
to this idea — are actually its supporters ; only they see that 
such a constitution, though the best, cannot be realized 
under all circumstances ; and that — while men are what they 
are — we must be satisfied with less freedom ; the monarchical 
constitution— under the given circumstances, and the present 
moral condition of the people — being even regarded as the 
most advantageous. In this view also, the necessity of a 
particular constitution is made to depend on the condition of 
the people in such a way as if the latter were non-essential 
and accidental. This representation is founded on the dis- 
tinction which the reflective understanding makes between 
an idea and the corresponding reality ; holding to an abstract 
and consequently untrue idea ; not grasping it in its com- 
pleteness, or —which is virtually, though not in point of form, 
the same, — not taking a concrete view of a people and a state. 
We shall have, to shew further on, that the constitutioD 



48 tNTEODUCTION. 

adopted by a people makes one substance — one spiric — witb 
its religion, its art and philosophy, or, at least, with its conce{> 
tions and thoughts — its culture generally ; not to expatiate 
upon the additional influences, ah extra, of climate, of neigh- 
bours, of its place in the "World. A State is an individual 
totality, of which j^ou cannot select any particular side, 
although a supremely important one, such as its political 
constitution ; and deliberate and decide respecting it in that 
isolated form. Not only is that constitution most intimately 
connected v/ith and dependent on those other spiritual forces ; 
but the form of the entire moral and intellectual indivi- 
duality — comprising all the forces it embodies — is only a step 
in the development of the grand "Whole, — with its place pre- 
appointed in the process ; a fact which gives the highest 
sanction to the constitution in question, and establishes its 
absolute necessity. — The origin of a state involves imperious 
lordship on the one hand, instinctive submission on the 
other. But even obedience— lordly power, and the fear 
inspired by a ruler — in itself implies some degree of voluntary 
connection. Even in barbarous states this is the case ; it is 
not the isolated will of individuals that prevails ; individual 
pretensions are relinquished, and the general will is the 
essential bond of political union. This unity of the general 
and the particular is the Idea itself, manifesting itself as a 
state, and which subsequently undergoes further development 
within itself. The abstract yet necessitated process in the 
development of truly independent states is as follows : — 
They begin with regal power, whether of patriarchal or 
military origin. In the next phase, particularity and indi- 
viduality assert themselves in the form of Aristocracy and 
Democracy. Lastly, we have the subjection of these separate 
interests to a single power; but which can be absolutely 
none other than one outside of which those spheres have an 
independent position, viz. the Monarchical. Two phases 
of royalty, therefore, must be distinguished, — a primary 
and a secondary one. This process is necessitated, so 
that the form of government assigned to a particular stage of 
development must present itself: it is therefore no matter of 
choice, but is that form which is adapted to the spirit of the 
people. 

In a Constitution the main feature of interest is the self* 



POLITICAL IDIOSTNCEAST. 49 

development of the rational, that is, the political condition 
of a people ; the setting free of the successive elements of 
the Idea : so that the several powers in the State manifest 
themselves as separate, — attain tbeir appropriate and special 
perfection, — and yet in this independent condition, work 
together for one object, and are held together by it — i.e. 
form an organic whole. The State is thus the embo-. 
diment of rational freedom, realizing and recognizing 
itself in an objective form. For its objectivity consists in 
this, — that its successive stages are not merely ideal, but are 
present in an appropriate reality ; and that in their separate 
and several working, they are absolutely merged in that 
agency by which the totality — the soul — the individuate unity 
— is produced, and of which it is the result. 

The State is the Idea of Spirit in the external manifesta- 
tion of human "Will and its Freedom. It is to the State, 
therefore, that change in the aspect of History indissolubly 
attaches itself; and the successive phases of the Idea mani- 
fest themselves in it as distinct political principles. The 
Constitutions under which World-Historical peoples have 
reached their culmination, are peculiar to them ; and there- 
fore do not present a generally applicable political basis. Were 
it otherwise, the differences of similar constitutions would 
consist only in a peculiar method of expanding and develop- 
ing that generic basis ; whereas they really originate in 
diversity of principle. From the comparison therefore of the 
political institutions of the ancient World- Historical peoples, 
it so happens, that for the most recent principle of a Consti- 
tution — for the principle of our own times— nothing (so to 
speak) can be learned. In science and art it is quite other- 
v.ise ; e.ff., the ancient philosophy is so decidedly the basis of 
the modern, that it is inevitably contained in the latter, and 
constitutes its basis. In this case the relation is that of a 
continuous development of the same structure, whose 
foundation-stone, walls, and roof have remained what they 
were. In Art, the Grreek itself, in its original form, fur- 
nishes us the best models. But in regard to political con^ 
stitution, it is quite otherwise : here the Ancient and 
the Modern have not their essential principle in common. 
Abstract definitions and dogmas respecting just government, 
—importing that intelligence and virtue ought to bear &waj — > 



50 INTBODUCTIOK. 

are, indeed, common to both. But nothing is so absurd as fo 
look to Greeks, Komans, or Orientals, for models for the 
political arrangements of our time. From the East may 
be derived beautiful pictures of a patriarchal condition, 
of paternal government, and of devotion to it on the part of 
peoples ; from Greeks and Romans, descriptions of popular 
liberty. Among the latter we find the idea of a Free Consti- 
tution admitting all the citizens to a share in delibera- 
tions and resolves respecting the affairs and laws of the 
Commonwealth. In our times, too, this is its general accep- 
tation ; only with this modification, that — since our states 
are so large, and there are so many of "the Many," the latter, 
— direct action being impossible, — should by the indirect 
method of elective substitution express their concurrence 
with resolves affecting the common weal ; that is, that for 
legislative purposes generally, the people should be repre- 
sented by deputies. The so-calledEepresentative Constitution 
is that form of government with which we connect the idea 
of a free constitution ; and this notion has become a rooted 
prejudice. On this theory People and Government are 
separated. But there is a perversity in this antithesis ; an ill- 
intentioned ruse designed to insinuate that the People are 
the totality of the State. Besides, the basis of this view is 
the principle of isolated individuality — the absolute validity 
of the subjective will — a dogma which we have already 
investigated. The great point is, that Freedom in its Ideal 
conception has not subjective will and caprice for its princi- 
ple, but the recognition of the universal will ; and that the 
process by which Freedom is realized is the free development 
of its successive stages. The subjective will is a merely 
formal determination — a carte blanche — not including what it 
is that is willed. Only the rational will is that universal 
principle which independently determines and unfolds its own 
being, and develops its successive elemental phases as organic 
members. Of this Gothic-cathedral architecture the ancients 
knew nothing. 

At an earlier stage of the discussion we established the 
two elemental considerations : first, the idea of freedom as 
the absolute and final aim ; secondly, the means for realizing 
it, i.e. the subjective side of knowledge and will, with its life, 
movement, and activity. We then recognized the State as the 



EELIGION. 51 

Ti oral "Whole and theHeality of Freedom, and consequently 
as the objective unity of these two elements. For although 
we make this distinction into two aspects for our considera- 
tion, it must be remarked that they are intimately connected ; 
and that their connection is involved in the idea of each 
when examined separately. We have, on the one hand, 
recognized the Idea in the definite form of Freedom con- 
scious of and willing itself, — having itself alone as its object : 
involving at the same time, the pure and simple Idea 
of Eeason, and likewise, that which we have called subject 
— self-consciousness — Spirit actually existing in the World. 
If, on the other hand, we consider Subjectivity, we find that 
subjective knowledge and will is Thought. But by the very 
act of thoughtful cognition and volition, I will the universal 
object — the substance of absolute Eeason. We observe, 
therefore, an essential union between the objective side — the 
Idea, — and the subjective side— the personality that conceives 
and wills it. — The objective existence of this union is the 
State, which is therefore the basis and centre of the other 
concrete elements of the life of a people, —of Art, of Law, of 
Morals, of Eeligionj of Science. All the activity of Spirit 
has only this object — the becoming conscious of this union, 
i. e.y of its own Freedom. Among the forms of this conscious 
union Beligion occupies the highest position. In it, Spirit 
— rising above the limitations of temporal and secular exist- 
ence — becomes conscious of the Absolute Spirit, and in this 
consciousness of the self-existent Being, renounces its indivi- 
dual interest ; it lays this aside in Devotion — a state of mind 
in which it, refuses to occupy itself any longer with the 
limited and particular. By Sacrifice man expresses his re- 
nunciation of his property, his will, his individual feelings. 
The religious concentration of the soul appears in the form 
of feelmg ; it nevertheless passes also into reflection ; a form 
of worship {cultus) is a result of reflection. The second form 
of the uni(m of the objective and subjective in the human 
spirit is Art. This advances farther into the realm of the 
actual and sensuous than Keligion. In its noblest walk it is 
occupied with representing, not indeed, the Spirit of Grod, 
but certainly the Form of Grod; and in its secondary aims, that 
which is divine and spiritual generally. Its office is to render 
visible the Divine ; presenting it to the imaginative and 



52 INTEODXJCTION. 

intuitive faculty. But the True is the object not only of 
conception and feeling, as in Religion, — and of intuition, as in 
Art, — but also of the thinking faculty; and this gives us the 
third form of the union in question — Philosophy. This is 
consequently the highest, freest, and wisest phase. Of 
course we are not intending to investigate these three phases 
here ; they have only suggested themselves in virtue of their 
occupying the same general ground as the object here con- 
sidered — the State. 

The general principle which manifests itself and becomes an 
object of consciousness in the State, — the form under w^hich 
all that the State includes is brought, — is the whole of that 
cycle of phenomena which constitutes the culture of a nation. 
But the definite substance that receives the form of univer- 
sality, and exists in that concrete reality which is the State, — 
is the Spirit of the People itself. The actual State is animated 
by this spirit, in all its particular affairs — its Wars, Institu- 
tions, &c. But man must also attain a conscious realization 
of this his Spirit and essential nature, and of his original 
identity with it. For we said that morality is the identity 
of the subjective or personalwith the universal will. Now the 
mind must give itself an express consciousness of this ; and 
the focus of this knowledge is Beligion. Art and Science 
are only various aspects and forms of the same substantial 
being. — In considering Religion, the chief point of enquiry 
is, whether it recognizes the True — the Idea — only in its 
separate, abstract form, or in its true unity ; in separation — 
God being represented in an abstract form as the Highest 
Being, Lord of Heaven and Earth, living in a remote region 
far from human actualities, — or in its unity ^ — God, as Unity 
of the Universal and Individual ; the Individual itself assum- 
ing the aspect of positive and real existence in the idea of 
the Incarnation. E-eligion is the sphere in which a nation 
gives itself the definition of that which it regards as the True. 
A definition contains everything that belongs to the essence 
of an object ; reducing its nature to its simple charac- 
teristic predicate, as a mirror for every predicate, — the 
generic soul pervading all its details. The conception of 
God, therefore, constitutes the general basis of a people's 
character. 

In this aspect, religion stands in the closest connection 



BELIGTON AND THE STATE. 53 

with the political principle, freedom can exist only where 
Individuality is recognized as having its positive and real 
existence in the Divine Being. The connection may be 
further explained thus ; — Secular existence, as merely tempo- 
ral— occupied with particular interests — is consequently only 
relative and unauthorized ; and receives its validity only in as 
far as the universal soul that pervades it — its principle — 
receives absolute validity ; which it cannot have unless it is 
recognized as the definite manifestation, the phenomenal 
existence of the Divine Essence. On this account it is that 
the State rests on Religion. We hear this often repeated in 
our times, though for the most part nothing further is meant 
than that individual subjects as Grod-fearing men would be 
more disposed and ready to perform their duty; since obedi- 
ence to King and Law so naturally follows in the train of 
reverence for Grod. This reverence, indeed, since it exalts 
the general over the special, may even turn upon the latter, — 
become fanatical, — and work with incendiary and destructive 
violence against the State, its institutions, and arrangements. 
Eeligious feeling, therefore, it is thought, should be sober, — 
kept in a certain degree of coolness, — that it may not storm 
against and bear down that which should be defended and 
preserved by it. The possibility of such a catastrophe is at 
least latent in it. 

While, however, the correct sentiment is adopted, that the 
State is based on Religion, the position thus assigned to Reli- 
gion supposes the State already to exist ; and that subsequently, 
in order to maintain it. Religion must be brought into it — in 
buckets and bushels as it were — and impressed upon people's 
hearts. It is quite true that men must be trained to 
religion, but not as to something whose existence has yet to 
begiQ. For in affirming that the State is based on Religion 
— that it has its roots in it — we virtually assert that the former 
has proceeded from the latter ; and that this derivation is 
going on now and will always continue ; i.e., the principles 
of the State must be regarded as valid in and for them- 
selves, which can only be in so far as they are recog- 
nized as determinate manifestations of the Divine Nature. 
The form of Religion, therefore, decides that of the State and 
its constitution. The latter actually originated in the par- 
ticular religion adopted by the nation ; so that, in fact, the 



54 INTRODUCTIOir. 

Athenian or the Eoman State was possible only in connec- 
tion with the specific form of Heathenism existing among the 
respective peoples ; just as a Catholic State has a spirit and 
constitution different from that of a Protestant one. 

If that outcry — that urging and striving for the implanta- 
tion of Religion in the community — were an utterance of 
anguish and a call for help, as it often seems to be, express- 
ing the danger of religion havmg vanished, or being about 
to vanish entirely from the State, — that would be fearful 
indeed, — worse, in fact, than this outcry supposes; for it 
implies the belief in a resource against the evil, viz., the im- 
plantation and inculcation of religion ; whereas religion is by 
no means a thing to be so produced ; its self-production (and 
there can be no other) lies much deeper. 

Another and opposite folly which we meet with in our 
time, is that of pretending to invent and carry out political 
constitutions independently of religion. The Catholic con- 
fession, although sharing the Christian name with the Pro- 
testant, does not concede to the State an inherent Justice and 
Morality, — a concession which in the Protestant principle is 
fundamental. This tearing away of the political morality of 
the Constitution from its natural connection, is necessary to 
the genius of that religion, inasmuch as it does not recognize 
Justice and Morality as independent and substantial. But 
thus excluded from intrinsic worth,— torn awayfrom their last 
refuge — the sanctuary of conscience — the calm retreat where 
religion has its abode, — the principles and institutions 
of political legislation are destitute of a real centre, to the 
same degree as they are compelled to remain abstract and 
indefinite. 

Summing up what has been said of the State, we find that 
we have been led to call its vital principle, as actuating the 
individuals who compose it, — Morality. The State, its laws, 
its arrangements, constitute the rights of its members ; its 
natural features, its mountains, air, and waters, are their 
country, their fatherland, their outward material property ; 
the history of this State, their deeds ; what their ancestors 
have produced, belongs to them and lives in their memory. 
All is their possession, just as they are possessed by it ; for it 
constitutes their existence, their being. 

Their imagination is occupied with the ideas thus pre- 



SPIEIT OF A PEOPLE. 55 

sented, while the adoption of these laws, and of a fatherland so 
conditioned is the expression of their will. It is this matured 
totality which thus constitutes one Being, the spirit of one 
People. To it the individual members belong ; each unit is 
the Son of his Nation, and at the same time — in as far as the 
State to which he belongs is undergoing development — the 
Son of his Age. None remains behind it, still less advances 
beyond it. This spiritual Being (the Spirit of his Time) is 
bis ; he is a representative of it ; it is that in which he ori- 
ginated, and in which he lives. Among the Athenians the 
word Athens had a double import ; suggesting primarily, 
a complex of political institutions, but no less, in the second 
place, that Groddess who represented the Spirit of the People 
and its unity. 

This Spirit of a People is a determinate and particular 
'Spirit, and is, as just stated, further modified by the degree 
of its historical development. This Spirit, then, constitutes 
the basis and substance of those other forms of a nation's 
consciousness, which have been noticed. Por Spirit in its 
self-consciousness must become an object of contemplation 
to itself, and objectivity involves, in the first instance, the rise 
of differences which make up a total of distinct spheres of 
objective spirit ; in the same way as the Soul exists only as 
the complex of its faculties, which in their form of concen- 
tration in a simple unity produce that Soul. It is thus One 
Individuality which, presented in its essence as God, is 
honoured and enjoyed in Religion ; which is exhibited as an 
object of sensuous contemplation in Art ; and is apprehended 
as an intellectual conception, in JPMlosopTiy . In virtue of 
the original identity of their essence, purport, and object, 
these various forms are inseparably united with the Spirit of 
the State. Only in connection with this particular religion, 
can this particular political constitution exist ; just as in such 
or such a State, such or such a Philosophy or order of Art. 

The remark next in order is, that each particular National 
genius is to be treated as only One Individual in the process 
of Universal History. Por that history is the exhibition of the 
divine, absolute development of Spirit in its highest forms, — 
that gradation by which it attains its truth and consciousness 
of itself. The forms which these grades of progress assume are 
the characteristic "National Spirits" of History ; the peculiar 



56 INTEODUCTIOlSr. 

tenor of their moral life, of their Grovemment, their Art, 
Religion, and Science. To realize these grades is the bound- 
less impulse of the World-Spirit — the goal of its irresistible 
urging; for this division into organic members, and the full 
development of each, is its Idea. — Universal History is exclu- 
sively occupied with shewing how Spirit comes to a recogni- 
tion and adoption of the Truth : the dawn of knowledge 
appears ; it begins to discover salient principles, and at last it 
arrives at full consciousness. 

Having, therefore, learned the abstract characteristics of 
the nature of Spirit, the means which it uses to realize its 
Idea, and the shape assumed by it in its complete realization in 
phenomenal existence — namely, the State — nothing furthei- 
remains for this introductory section to contemplate but 

III. The course of the World's History. The mutations 
which history presents have been long characterized in the 
general, as an advance to something better, more perfect. The 
changes that take place in Nature — how infinitely manifold 
soever they may be — exhibit only a perpetually self-repeating 
cycle ; in Nature there happens " nothing new under the 
sun," and the multiform play of its phenomena so far induces 
a feeling of ennui ; only in those changes which take place 
in the region of Spirit does anything new arise. This pecu- 
liarity in the world of mind has indicated in the case of man 
au altogether different destiny from that of merely natural 
objects — in which w^e find always one and the same stable 
character, to which all change reverts ; — namely, a real capa- 
city for change, and that for the better, — an impulse of 'per- 
fectihility. This principle, which reduces change itself under 
a law, has met with an unfavourable reception from religions 
— such as the Catholic — and from States claiming as their just 
right a stereotyped, or at least a stable position. If the muta- 
bility of worldly things in general — political constitutions, for 
instance — is conceded, either Religion (as the Religion of 
Truth) is absolutely excepted, or the difficulty escaped by as- 
cribing changes, revolutions, and abrogations of immaculate 
theories and institutions, to accidents or imprudence, — but 
principally to the levity and evil passions of man. The prin- 
ciple of Perfectibility indeed is almost as indefinite a term as 
mutability in general ; it is without scope or goal, and has 
no standard by which to estimate the changes in question: 



NATURAL AND SPIRITUAL DEVELOPMENT. 57 

the improved, more perfect, state of things towards which it 
professedly tends is altogether undetermined. 

The principle of Development involves also the existence of 
a latent germ of being — a capacity or potentiality striving to 
realise itself. This formal conception finds actual existence 
in Spirit ; which has the History of the World for its theatre, 
its possession, and the sphere of its realization. It is not 
of such a nature as to be tossed to and fro amid the superfi- 
cial play of accidents, but is rather the absolute arbiter of 
things ; entirely unmoved by contingencies, which, indeed, 
it applies and manages for its own purposes. Development, 
however, is also a property of organized natural objects. 
Their existence presents itself, not as an exclusively dependent 
one, subjected to external changes, but as one which expands 
itself in virtue of an internal unchangeable principle ; a 
simple essence, — whose existence, i. e., as a germ, is primarily 
simple, — but which subsequently develops a variety of parts, 
that become involved with other objects, and consequently 
live through a continuous process of changes ; — a process 
nevertheless, that results in the very contrary of change, and 
is even transformed into a vis conservatrix of the organic 
principle, and the form embodying it. Thus the organized 
individuum produces itself ; it expands ii^el^ actually to what 
it was always potentially. — So Spirit is only that which it 
attains by its own efforts ; it makes itself actually what it 
always ^^^^ potentially. — That development {o^ natural organ- 
isms) takes place in a direct, unopposed, unhindered manner. 
Between the Idea audits realization— the essential constitu- 
tion of the original germ and the conformity to it of the 
existence derived from it— no disturbing influence can intrude. 
But in relation to Spirit it is quite otherwise. The realiza- 
tion of its Idea is mediated by consciousness and will ; these 
very faculties are, in the first instance, sunk in their pri- 
mary merely natural life ; the first object and goal of their 
striving is the realization of their merely natural destiny, — 
But which, since it is Spirit that animates it, is possessed of 
vast attractions and displays great power and [moral] rich- 
ness. Thus Spirit is at war with itself; it has to overcome 
itself as its most formidable obstacle. That development 
which in the sphere of Nature is a peaceful growth, is in that 
of Spirit, a severe, a mighty conflict with itself. What Spirit 



58 INTKODUCTIOW. 

really strives for is the realization of its Ideal being ; but in 
doing so, it hides that goal from its own vision, and is proud 
and well satisfied in this alienation from it. 

Its expansion, therefore, does not present the harnjless 
tranquillity of mere growth, as does that of organic life, but 
a stern reluctant working against itself. It exhibits, more- 
over, not the mere formal conception of development, but 
the attainment of a definite result. The goal of attainment 
vre determined at the outset : it is Spirit in its completeness, 
in its essential nature, i. e., Freedom. This is the fundamen- 
tal object, and therefore also the leading principle of the deve- 
lopment,— that whereby it receives meaning and importance 
(as in the Eoman history, Eorae is the object — consequently 
that which directs our consideration of the facts related) ; as, 
conversely, the phenomena of the process have resulted from 
this principle alone, and only as referred to it, possess a sense 
and value. There are many considerable periods in History 
in which this development seems to have been intermitted ; in 
which, we might rather say, the whole enormous gain of pre- 
vious culture appears to have been entirely lost ; after which, 
unhappily, a new commencement has been necessary, made 
in the hope of recovering — by the assistance of some remains 
saved from the wreck of a former civilization, and by dint of 
a renewed incalculable expenditure of strength and time, — 
one of the regions which had been an ancient possession of 
tliat civilization. We behold also continued processes of 
growth; structures and systems of culture in particular 
spheres, rich in kind, and well developed in every direction. 
The merely formal and indeterminate view of development 
in general can neither assign to one form of expansion supe- 
riority over the other, nor render comprehensible the object 
of that decay of older periods of growth ; but must regard 
such occurrences, — or, to speak more particularly, the retro- 
cessions they exhibit, — as external contingencies ; and can 
only judge of particular modes of development from indeter- 
minate points of view ; which — since the development as such, 
is all in all — are relative and not absolute goals of attainment. 

Universal History exhibits the gradation in the develop- 
ment of that principle whose substantial purport is the 
consciousness of Freedom. The analysis of the sui;cessive 
grades, in their abstract form, belongs to Logic ; in their con- 



DETELOPMENT OF SPIRIT. 59 

Crete aspect to the Philosophy of Spirit. Here it is sufficient 
to state that the first step in the process presents that im- 
mersion of Spirit in Nature which has been already referred 
to ; the second shows it as advancing to the consciousness of 
its freedom. But this initial separation from !N ature is imper- 
fect and partial, since it is derived immediately from the 
merely natural state, is consequently related to it, and is still 
encumbered with it as an essentially connected element. 
The third step is the elevation of the sonl from this still 
limited and special form of freedom to its pure universal 
form ; that state in which the spiritual essence attains the 
consciousness and feeling of itself. These grades are the 
ground-principles of the general process ; but how each of 
them on the other hand involves within itself a process of 
formation, — constituting the links in a dialectic of transition, 
— to particularise this must be reserved for the sequel. " 

Here we have only to indicate that Spirit begins with a 
germ of infinite possibility, but only possibility, — containing 
its substantial existence in an undeveloped form, as the 
object and goal which it reaches only in its resultant — full 
reality. In actual existence Progress appears as an advanc- 
ing from the imperfect to the more perfect ; but the former" 
must not be understood abstractly as only the imperfect, but 
as something which involves the very opposite of itself — the 
so-called perfect — as a germ or impulse. So — reilectively, at 
least — possihility points to something destined to become 
actual 5 the Aristotelian dvvafiig is also potentia, power and 
might. Thus the Imperfect, as involving its opposite, is a 
contradiction, which certainly exists, but which is continually 
annulled and solved ; the instinctive movement— the inherent 
impulse in the life of the soul — to break through the rind of 
mere nature, sensuousness, and that which is alien to it, and 
to attain to the light of consciousness, i. e. to itself. 

We have already made the remark how the commencement 
of the history of Spirit must be conceived so as to be in har- 
nlony with its Idea — in its bearing on the representations that 
have been made of a primitive " natural condition," in which 
freedom and justice are supposed to exist, or to have existed. 
This was, however, nothing more than an assumption of his- 
torical existence, conceived in the twilight of theorising 
reflection. A pretension of quite another order, — not a mer© 



60 TNTEODUCTTOK. 

inference of reasoning, but making the claim of historical 
fact, and that supernaturally confirmed, — is put forth in 
connection with a different view that is now widely pro- 
mulgated by a certain class of speculatists. This view takes 
up the idea of the primitive paradisaical condition of man, 
which had been previously expanded by the Theologians, 
after their fashion, — involviDg, e.g., the supposition that God 
spoke with Adam in Hebrew,— but re-modelled to suit other 
requirements. The high authority appealed to in the first 
instance is the biblical narrative. But this depicts the pri- 
mitive condition, partly only in the few well-known traits, 
but partly either as in man generically, — human nature at 
large, — or, so far as Adam is to be taken as an individual, and 
consequently one person, — as existing and completed in this 
one, or only in one human pair. The biblical account by no 
means justifies us in imagiuing a peopZ^,and an historical con- 
dition of such people, existing in that primitive form ; still 
less does it warrant us in attributing to them the possession 
of a perfectly developed knowledge of Grod and Nature. 
** Nature," so the fiction runs, " like a clear mirror of God's 
creation, had originally lain revealed and transparent to the 
unclouded eye of man."* Divine Truth is imagined 
to have been equally manifest. It is even hinted, though 
left in some degree of obscurity, that in this primary condi- 
tion men were in possession of an indefinitely extended and 
already expanded body of religious truths immediately 
revealed by God. This theory affirms that all religions had 
their historical commencement in this primitive knowledge, 
and that they polluted and obscured the original Truth by 
the monstrous creations of error and depravity ; though in 
all the mythologies invented by Error, traces of that origin 
and of thos<j primitive true dogmas are supposed to be pre- 
sent and cognizable. An important interest, therefore, 
accrues to the investigation of the history of ancient peoples, 
that, viz., of the endeavour to trace their annals up to the 
point where such fragments of the primary revelation are to 
be met with in greater purity than lower down.f 

* Fr. von Schlegel, " Philosophy of History," p. 91, Bohn's Standard 
Library. 

f We have to thank this interest for many valuable discoveries in 
Oriental literature, and for a renewed study of treasures previously 
known, in the department of ancient Asiatic Culture, Mythology, Eell- 



FEEDERICK YON SCHLEGEL's THEOEY. 61 

We owe to the interest which has occasioned these inves- 
tigations, very much that is valuable ; but this investigation 
bears direct testimony against itself, for it would seem to be 
awaiting the issue of an historical demonstration of that 
which is presupposed by it as historically established. That 
advanced condition of the knowledge of Grod, and of other 
scientific, e. g. astronomical knowledge (such as has been 
falsely attributed to the Hindoos) ; and the assertion that 
such a condition occurred at the very beginning of History, 
— or that the religions of various nations were traditionally 
derived from it, and have developed themselves in degene- 
racy and depravation (as is represented in the rudely- 
conceived so-called "Emanation System,") ; — all these are 
suppositions which neither have, nor, — if we may contrast 
with their arbitrary subjective origin, the true conception of 
History, — can attain historical coutirmation. 

The only consistent and worthy method which philoso- 
phical investigation can adopt, is to take up History where 

gions, and History. In Catholic countries, where a refined literary taste 
prevails, Governments have yielded to the requirements of speculative 
inqmry, and have felt the necessity of allying themselves with learniag 
and philosophy. Eloquently and impressively has the Abbe Lamennais 
reckoned it among the criteria of the true religion, that it must be the uni- 
versal — that is, catholic — and the oldest in date; and the Congregation 
has laboured zealously and diUgently in France towards rendering such 
assertions no longer mere pulpit tirades and authoritative dicta, such as 
were deemed sufficient formerly. The religion of Buddha— a god-man — 
which has prevailed to such an enormous extent, has especially attracted 
attention. The Indian Timurtis, as also the Chinese abstraction of the 
Trinity, has furnished clearer evidence in point of subject matter. The 
• savans, M. Abel Remusat and M. Saint Martin, on the one hand, have 
undertaken the most meritorious investigations in the Chinese literature, 
with a view to make this also a base of operations for researches in the 
Mongolian and, if such were possible, in the Thibetian ; on the other 
hand, Baron von Eckstein, in his way {%. e., adopting from Germany 
superficial physical conceptions and mannerisms, in the style of Er. v. 
Schlegel, though with more geniality than the latter) in his periodical, 
" Le Catholique,"— has farthered the cause of that primitive Catholicism 
generally, and in particular has gained for the savans of the Congrega- 
tion the support of the Government ; so that it has even set on foot expe- 
ditions to the East, in order to discover thei-e treasures still concealed; 
(from which further disclosures have been anticipated, respecting pro- 
found theological questions, particularly on the higher antiquity and 
sources of Buddhism), and with a view to promote the interests of Catho- 
licism by this circuitous but scientifically interesting method. 



62 INTEODUCTION. 

Rationality begins to manifest itself in the actual conduct of 
the World's affairs (not where it is merely an undeveloped 
potentiality), — where a condition of things is present in which 
it realizes itself in consciousness, will and action. The in- 
organic existence of Spirit— that of abstract Freedom — uncon- 
scious torpidity in respect to good and evil (and consequently 
to laws ), or, if we please to term it so, " blessed ignorance," — 
is itself not a subject of History. Natural, and at the same 
time religious morality, is the piety of the family. In this 
social relation, morality consists in the members behaving 
towards each other not as individuals —-possessing an inde- 
pendent will ; not as persons. The Family therefore, is 
excluded from that process of development in which History 
takes its rise. But when this self-involved spiritual Unity 
steps beyond this circle of feeling and natural love, and 
first attains the consciousness of personality, we have that 
dark, dull centre of indifference, in which neither Nature 
nor Spirit is open and transparent ; and for which Nature 
and Spirit can become open and transparent only by means 
of a further process, — a very lengthened culture of that Will 
at length become self-conscious. Consciousness alone is 
clearness ; and is that alone for which God (or any other 
existence) can be revealed. In its true form, — in absolute 
universality — nothing can be manifested elcept to conscious- 
ness made percipient of it. Freedom is nothing but the 
recognition and adoption of such universal substantial objects 
as Eight and Law, and the production of a reality that is 
accordant with them — the State. Nations may have passed a 
long life before arriving at this their destination, and during 
this period, they may have attained considerable culture 
in some directions. This ante-historical period — consis- 
tently with what has been said — lies out of our plan ; 
whether a real history followed it, or the peoples in question 
never attained a political constitution. — It is a great dis- 
covery in history — as of a new world — which has been made 
within rather more than the last twenty years, respecting the 
Sanscrit and the connection of the European languages with 
it. In particular, the connection of the German and Indian 
peoples has been demonstrated, with as much certainty as 
such subjects allow of. Even at the present time we know 
of peoples which scarcely form a society, much less a State, 



C0XDITI02TS ESSENTIAL TO HISTOBT. 63 

but tlaat have been long known as existing ; while with 
regard to others, which in their advanced condition excite 
our especial interest, tradition reaches beyond the record of 
the founding of the State, and they experienced many 
changes prior to that epoch. In the connection just re- 
ferred to, between the languages of nations so widely sepa- 
rated, we have a result before us, which proves the diffusion 
of those nations from Asia as a centre, and the so dissimilar 
development of what had been origtaally related, as an in- 
contestable fact; not as an inference deduced by that favourite 
method of combining, and reasoning from, circumstances 
grave and trivial, which has already enriched and will con- 
tinue to enrich history with so many fictions given out as 
facts. But that apparently so extensive range of events 
lies beyond the pale of history ; in fact preceded it. 

In our language the term History* unites the objective 
with the subjective side, and denotes quite as much the 
historia rerum gestarum, as the res gestcd themselves ; on 
the other hand it comprehends not less what has Jiappened, 
than the narration of what has happened. This union of 
the two meanings we must regard as of a higher order than 
mere outward accident ; we must suppose historical narra- 
tions to have appeared contemporaneously with historical 
deeds and events. It is an internal vital priaciple common 
to both that produces them synchronously. I'amily mer 
morials, patriarchal traditions, have an interest confined to 
the family and the clan. The uniform course of events which 
such a condition implies, is no subject of serious remem- 
brance ; though distinct transactions or turns of fortune, may 
rouse Mnemosyne to form conceptions of them, — in the same 
way as love and the religious emotions provoke imagination 
to give shape to a previously formless impulse. But it is 
the State which first presents subject-matter that is not 
only adapted to the prose of History, but involves the pro- 
duction of such history in the very progress of its own being. 
Instead of merely subjective mandates on the part of govern- 
ment, — sufficing for the needs of the moment, — a community 
that is acquiring a stable existence, and exalting itself into 
a State, requires formal commands and laws — comprehensive 

* German, ** Geschichte," from " Geschehen," to happen. Tr. 



64 INTRODUCTION. 

and universally binding prescriptions ; and thus produces a 
record as well as an interest concerned with intelligent, de- 
finite—and, in their results — lasting transactions and occur- 
rences ; on which Mnemosyne, for the behoof of the perennial 
object of the formation and constitution of the State, is 
impelled to confer perpetuity. Profound sentiments gene- 
rally, such as that of love, as also religious intuition and its 
conceptions, are in themselves complete, — constantly present 
and satisfying ; but that outward existence of a political 
constitution which is enshrined in its rational laws and 
customs, is an imperfect Present; and cannot be thoroughly 
understood without a knowledge of the past. 

The periods — whether we suppose them to be centuries or 
millennia — that were passed by nations before history was 
written among them, — and which may have been filled with 
revolutions, nomadic wanderings, and the strangest muta- 
tions, — are on that very account destitute o? objective history, 
because they present no subjective history, no annals. We 
need not suppose that the records of such periods have 
accidentally perished ; rather, because they were not possible, 
do we find them wanting. Only in a State cognizant of 
Laws, can distinct transactions take place, accompanied by 
such a clear consciousness of them as supplies the ability and 
suggests the necessity of an enduring record. It strikes 
every one, in beginning to form an acquaintance with the 
treasures of Indian literature, that a land so rich in intellec- 
tual products, and those of the profoundest order of thought, 
has no History ; and in this respect contrasts most strongly 
with China — an empire possessing one so remarkable, one 
going back to the most ancient times. India has not only 
ancient books relating to religion, and splendid poetical pro- 
ductions, but also ancient codes ; the existence of which latter 
kind of literature has been mentioned as a condition neces- 
sary to the origination of History— and yet History itself is 
not found. But in that country the impulse of organization, 
in beginning to develop social distinctions, was immediately 
petrified in the merely natural classification according to 
castes; so that although the laws concern themselves with 
civil rights, they make even these dependent on natural 
distinctions ; and are especially occupied with determining 
the relations (Wrongs rather than Eights) of those classes 



ANTE- HISTORICAL PEEIOD. 65 

towards eacH other, i.e. tbe privileges of the higher over the 
lower. Consequently, the element of morality is banished 
from the pomp of Indian life and from its political institu- 
tions. Where that iron bondage of distinctions derived 
from nature prevails, the connection of society is nothing 
but wild arbitrariness, — transient activity, — or rather the 
play of violent emotion without any goal of advancement or 
development. Therefore no intelligent reminiscence, no object 
for Mnemosyne presents itself ; and imagination — confused 
though profound — expatiates in a region, which, to be capable 
of History, must have had an aim within the domain of 
Keality, and, at the same time, of substantial Freedom. 

Since such are the conditions indispensable to a history, 
it has happened that the growth of Families to Clans, of 
Clans to Peoples, and their local diffusion consequent upon 
this numerical increase, — a series of facts which itself sug- 
gests so many instances of social complication, war, revolu- 
tion, and ruin, — a process which is so rich in interest, and so 
comprehensive in extent, — has occurred without giving rise 
to History : moreover, that the extension and organic growth 
of the empire of articulate sounds has itself remained voice- 
less and dumb, — a stealth}^, unnoticed advance. It is a fact 
revealed by philological monuments, that languages, during 
a rude condition of the nations that have spoken them, have 
been very highly developed ; that the human understanding 
occupied this theoretical region with great ingenuity and 
completeness. For Grrammar, in its extended and consistent 
form, is the work of thought, which makes its categories 
distinctly visible therein. It is, moreover, a fact, that with 
advancing social and political civilization, this systematic 
completeness of intelligence suffers attrition, and language 
thereupon becomes poorer and ruder : a singular pheno- 
menon — that the progress towards a more highly intellectual 
condition, while expanding and cultivating rationality, should 
disregard that intelligent amplitude and expressiveness — 
should find it an obstruction and contrive to do without it. 
Speech is the act of theoretic intelligence in a special sense ; 
it is its external manifestation. Exercises of memory and 
imagination without language, are direct, [non-speculative] 
manifestations. But this act of theoretic intelligence itself; as 
also its subsequent development, and the more concrete 



66 INTEODUCTION. 

class of facts connected with it, — viz. the spreading of peoples 
over the earth, their separation from each other, their com- 
mingliugs and wanderings — remain involved in the obscurity 
of a voiceless past. They are not acts of "Will becoming 
self-conscious — of Freedom, mirroring itself in a phenomenal 
form, and creating for itself a proper reality. Not partak- 
ing of this element of substantial, veritable existence, 
those nations — notwithstanding the development of lan- 
guage among them — never advanced to the possession of 
a history. The rapid growth of language, and the progress 
and dispersion of Nations, assume importance and interest 
for concrete Eeason, only when they have come in contact 
with States, or begin to form political constitutions them- 
selves. 

After these remarks, relating to the form of the commence- 
ment of the "World's History, and to that ante-historical 
period which must be excluded from it, we have to state the 
direction of its course : though here only formally. The 
further definition of the subject in the concrete, comes 
under the head of arrangement. 

Universal history — as already demonstrated — shews the de- 
velopment of the consciousness of Freedom on the part of 
Spirit, and of the consequent realization of that Freedom. 
This development implies a gradation — a series of increasingly 
adequate expressions or manifestations of Freedom, which 
result from its Idea. The logical, and — as still more promi- 
nent—the dialectical nature of the Idea in general, viz. that 
it is self-determined — that it assumes successive forms which 
it successively transcends; and by this very process of 
transcending its earlier stages, gains an affirmative, and, in 
fact, a richer and more concrete shape ; — this necessity of its 
nature, and the necessary series of pure abstract forms which 
the Idea successively assumes — is exhibited in the department 
of Logic. Here we need adopt only one of its results; viz. 
that every step in the process, as differing from any other, 
has its determinate peculiar principle. In history this prin- 
ciple is idiosyncrasy of Spirit— peculiar National Grenius. It 
is within the limitations of this idiosyncrasy that the spirit of 
the nation, concretely manifested, expresses every aspect of 
its consciousness and will — the whole cycle of its realization. 
Its religion, its polity, its ethics, its legislation, and even its 



OBJECTION'S BROUGHT BY EMPIEICISM. 67 

science, art, and mechanical skill, all bear its stamp. These 
special peculiarities find their key in that common peculiarity, 
— the particular principle that characterises a people ; as; on 
the other hand, in the facts which History presents in detail, 
that common characteristic principle may be detected. That 
such or such a specific quality constitutes the peculiar genius 
of a people, is the element of our inquiry which must be de- 
rived from experience, and historically proved. To accomplish 
this,pre-supposes not only a disciplined faculty of abstraction, 
but an intimate acquaintance with the Idea. The investigator 
must be familiar d 'priori (if we like to call it so), with the 
whole circle of conceptions to which the principles in ques- 
tion belong — ^just as Keppler (to name the most illustrious 
example in this mode of philosophizing) must have been 
familiar a priori with ellipses, with cubes and squares, and 
with ideas of their relations, before he could discover, from 
the empirical data, those immortal "Laws" of his, which 
are none other than forms of thought pertaining to those 
classes of conceptions. He who is unfamiliar with the 
science that embraces these abstract elementary concep- 
tions, is as little capable — though he may have gazed on the 
firmament and the motions of the celestial bodies for a life- 
time — of understanding those Laws, as of discovering them. 
From this want of acquaintance with the ideas that relate 
to the development of Freedom, proceed a part of those 
objections which are brought against the philosophical 
consideration of a science usually regarded as one of mere 
experience ; the so-called « priori method, and the attempt 
to insinuate ideas into the empirical data of history, being 
the chief points in the indictment. "Where this deficiency 
exists, such conceptions appear alien — not lying within the 
object of investigation. To minds whose training has been 
narrow and merely subjective, — which have not an acquaint- 
ance and familiarity with ideas, — they are something strange 
— not embraced in the notion and conception of the subject 
which their limited intellect forms. Hence the statement 
that Philosophy does not understand such sciences. It must, 
indeed, allow that it has not that kind of Understanding 
which is the prevailing one in the domain of those sciences 
that it does not proceed according to the categories of such 
Understanding, but according to the categories of Heason 



GB INTEODUCTIOW. 

— though at the same time recognizing that Understanding, 
and its true value and position. It must be observed that 
in this very process of scientific Understanding, it is of 
importance that the essential should be distinguished and 
brought into relief in contrast with the so-called non-essen- 
tial. But in order to render this possible, we must know 
what is essential ; and that is — in view of the History of the 
World in general — the Consciousness of Freedom, and the 
phases which this consciousness assumes in developing itself. 
The bearing of historical facts on this category, is their 
bearing on the truly Essential. Of the difficulties stated, 
and the opposition exhibited to comprehensive conceptions 
in science, part must be referred to the inability to grasp 
and understand Ideas. If in Natural History some monstrous 
hybrid growth is alleged as an objection to the recognition 
of clear and indubitable classes or species, a sufficient reply 
is furnished by a sentiment often vaguely urged, —that " the 
exception confirms the rule ;" i.e. that is the part of a well- 
defined rule, to shew the conditions in which it applies, or 
the deficiency or hybridism of cases that are abnormal. 
Mere Nature is too weak to keep its genera and species 
pure, when conflicting with alien elementary influences. 
If, e.g. on considering the human organization in its concrete 
aspect, we assert that brain, heart, and so forth are essential 
to its organic life, some miserable abortion may be adduced, 
which has on the whole the human form, or parts of it, — which 
has been conceived in a human body and has breathed after 
birth therefrom, — in which nevertheless no brain and no heart 
is found. If such an instance is quoted against the general 
conception of a human being — the objector persisting in 
using the name, coupled with a superficial idea respecting 
it — it can be proved that a real, concrete human being is a 
truly different object ; that such a being must have a brain 
in its head, and a heart in its breast. 

A similar process of reasoning is adopted, in reference to 
the correct assertion that genius, talent, moral virtues, and sen- 
timents, and piety, may be found in every zone, under all po- 
litical constitutions and conditions ; in confirmation of which 
examples are forthcoming in abundance. If in this assertion, 
the accompanying distinctions are intended to be repudiated 
as unimportant or non-essential, reflection evidently limita 



DISTINCTIONS 12?" NATIONAL GENIFS IGNORED. 69 

itself to abstract categories ; and ignores the specialities of 
the object in question, which certainly fall under no principle 
recognized by such categories. That intellectual position 
which adopts such merely formal points of view, presents a 
vast field for ingenious questions, erudite views, and striking 
comparisons ; for profound seeming reflections and declama- 
tions, which may be rendered so much the more brilliant in 
proportion as the subject they refer to is indefinite, and are 
susceptible of new and varied forms in inverse proportion to 
the importance of the results that can be gained from them, 
and the certainty and rationality of their issues. Under 
such an aspect the well known Indian Epopees may be com- 
pared with the Homeric ; perhaps — since it is the vast- 
ness of the imagination by which poetical genius proves 
itself — preferred to them ; as, on account of the similarity of 
single strokes of imagination in the attributes of the divi- 
nities, it has been contended that G-reek mythological forms 
may be recognized in those of India. Similarly the Chinese 
philosophy, as adopting the One {t6 ep'] as its basis, has been 
alleged to be the same as at a later period appeared as 
Eleatic philosophy and as the Spinozistic System ; while in 
virtue of its expressing itself also in abstract numbers and 
lines, Pythagorean and Christian principles have been sup- 
posed to be detected in it. Instances of bravery and indomi- 
table courage, — traits of magnanimity, of self-denial, and 
self-sacrifice, which are found among the most savage and the 
most pusillanimous nations, — are regarded as sufficient to sup- 
port the view that in these nations as much of social virtue 
and morality may be found as in the most civilized Christian 
states, or even more. And on this ground a doubt has been 
suggested whether in the progress of history and of gene- 
ral culture mankind have become better ; whether their 
morality has been increased, — morality being regarded in a 
subjective aspect and view, as founded on what the agent 
holds to be right and wrong, good and evil ; not on a principle 
which is considered to be in and for itself right and good, or 
a crime and evil, or on a particular religion believed to be 
the true one. 

We may fairly decline on this occasion the task of tracing 
the formalism and error of such a view, aud establishing the 
true principles of morality, or rather of social virtue in 



70 INTRODUCTION. 

opposition to false morality. For the History of the "World 
occupies a higher ground than that on which morality 
has properly its position , which is personal character, — the 
conscience of individuals, — their particular will and mode of 
action ; these have a value, imputation, reward or punishment 
proper to themselves. What the absolute aim of Spirit re- 
quires and accomplishes, — what Providence does, — transcends 
the obligations, and the liability to imputation and the 
ascription of good or bad motives, which attach to indi- 
viduality in virtue of its social relations. They who on moral 
grounds, and consequently with noble intention, have re- 
sisted that which the advance of the Spiritual Idea makes 
necessary, stand higher in moral worth than those whose 
crimes have been turned into the means — under the direction 
of a superior principle — of realizing the purposes of that 
principle. But in such revolutions both parties generally 
stand within the limits of the same circle of transient and 
corruptible existence. Consequently it is only a formal 
rectitude — deserted by the living Spirit and by Grod— which 
those who stand upon ancient right and order maintain. 
The deeds of great men, who are the Individuals of the 
"World's History, thus appear not only justified in view of 
that intrinsic result of which they were not conscious, but 
also from the point of view occupied by the secular 
moralist. But looked at from this point, moral claims that 
are irrelevant, must not be brought into collision with world- 
historical deeds and their accomplishment. The Litany of 
private virtues — modesty, humility, philanthropy and for- 
bearance—must not be raised against them. The History of 
the "World might, on principle, entirely ignore the circle 
within which morality and the so much talked of distinction 
between the moral and the politic lies — not only in abstain- 
ing from judgments, for the principles involved, and the ne- 
cessary reference of the deeds in question to those principles, 
are a sufficient judgment of them — but in leaving Individuals 
quite out of view and unmentioned. What it has to re- 
cord is the activity of the Spirit of Peoples, so that the 
individual forms which that spirit has assumed in the sphere 
of outward reality, might be left to the delineation of special 
histories. 

The same kind of formalism avails itself in its peculiar 



DISTINCTIONS IN" NATIONAL GENIUo IGNORED. 71 

manner of the indefiniteness attaching to genius, poetry, and 
even philosophy ; thinks equally that it finds these every- 
where. "We have here products of reflective thought; and 
it is familiarity with those general conceptions which single 
out and name real distinctions without fathoming the true 
depth of the matter, — that we call Culture. It is some- 
thing merely formal, inasmuch as it aims at nothing 
more than the analysis of the subject, wiiatever it be, into 
its constituent parts, and the comprehension of these in their 
logical definitions and forms. It is not the free universality 
of conception necessary for making an abstract principle the 
object of consciousness. Such a consciousness of Thought 
itself, and of its forms isolated from a particular object, is 
Philosophy. This has, indeed, the condition of its existence 
in culture ; that condition being the taking up of the object 
of thought, and at the same time clothing it with the form of 
universality, in such a way that the material content and the 
form given by the intellect are held in an inseparable state ; — 
inseparable to such a degree that the object in question — 
which, by the analysis of one conception into a multitude 
of conceptions, is enlarged to an incalculable treasure of 
thought — is regarded as a merely empirical datum in whose 
formation thought has had no share. 

But it is quite as much an act of Thought — of the Under- 
standing in particular — to embrace in one simple conception 
object which of itself comprehends a concrete and large sig- 
nificance (as Earth, Man, — Alexander or Caesar) and to 
designate it by one word, — as to resolve such a conception — 
duly to isolate in idea the conceptions which it contains, and 
to give them particular names. And in reference to the view 
which gave occasion to what has just been said, thus much 
wdll be clear,— that as reflection produces what we include 
under the general terms Grenius, Talent, Art, Science, —formal 
culture on every grade of intellectual development, not only 
can, but must grow, and attain a mature bloom, while the 
grade in question is developing itself to a State, and on this 
basis of civilization is advancing to intelligent reflection and 
to general forms of thought, — as in laws, so in regard to all 
else. In the very association of men in a state, lies the ne- 
cessity of formal culture — consequently of the rise of the 
sciences and of a cultivated poetry and art generally. Th© 



72 INTEODUCTION. 

arts designated "plastic," require besides, even in their 
technical aspect, the civilized association of men. The poetic 
art — which has less need of external requirements and means, 
and which has the element of immediate existence, the voice, 
as its material — steps forth with great boldness and with ma- 
tured expression, even under the conditions presented by a 
people not yet united in a political combination ; since, as re- 
marked above, language attains on its own particular ground 
a high intellectual development, prior to the commence- 
ment of civilization- 
Philosophy also must make its appearance where political 
life exists ; since that in virtue of which any series of pheno- 
mena is reduced within the sphere of culture, as above stated, 
is the Form strictly proper to Thought ; and thus for philoso- 
phy, which is nothing other than the consciousness of this 
form itself— the Thinking of Thinking, — the material of which 
its edifice is to be constructed, is already prepared hy general 
culture. If in the development of the State itself, periods 
are necessitated which impel the soul of nobler natures to 
seek refuge from the Present in ideal regions,— in order to find 
in them that harmony with itself which it can no longer 
enjoy in the discordant real world, where the reflective intel- 
ligence attacks all that is holy and deep, which had been spon- 
taneously inwrought into the religion, laws and manners of 
nations, and brings them down and attenuates them to ab- 
stract godless generalities, — Thought will be compelled to be- 
come Thinking Eeason, with the view of efi'ecting in its own 
element, the restoration of its principles from the ruin to 
which they had been brought. 

We find then, it is true, among all world-historical peoples, 
poetrv, plastic art, science, even philosophy ; but not only is 
there' a diversity in style and bearing generally, but still 
more remarkably in subject-matter ; and this is a diversity of 
the most important kind, affecting the rationality of that sub- 
ject-matter. It is useless for apretentious aesthetic criticism to 
demand that our good pleasure should not be made the rule 
for the matter — the substantial part of their contents — and to 
maintain that it is the beautiful form as such, the grandeur 
of the fancy, and so forth, which fine art aims at, and which 
must be considered and enjoyed by a liberal taste and cul- 
tivated mind. A healthy intellect does not tolerate such 



TALSE CLASSIFICATIONS. 73 

abstractions, and cannot assimilate productions of the kind 
above referred to. Granted that the Indian Epopees might 
be placed on a level with the Homeric, on account of a num- 
ber of those qualities of form — grandeur of invention and 
imaginative power, liveliness of images and emotions, and 
beauty of diction ; yet the infinite difference of matter 
remains ; consequently one of substantial importance and in- 
volving the interest of B-eason, which is immediately con- 
cerned with the consciousness of the Idea of Ereedom, and its 
expression in individuals. There is not only a classical /orm, 
but a classical order oi subject-matter ; and in a work of art 
form and subject matter are so closely united that the former 
can only be classical to the extent to which the latter is so. 
With a fantastical, indeterminate material — and Bule is the 
essence of Season — the form becomes measureless and form- 
less, or mean and contracted. In the same way, in that com- 
parison of the various systems of philosophy of which we have 
already spoken, the only point of importance is overlooked, 
namely, the character of that Unity which is found alike in the 
Chinese, the Eleatic, and the Spinozistic philosophy — the 
distinction between the recognition of that IJnity as abstract 
and as concrete — concrete to the extent of being a unity in 
and by itself — a unity synonymous with Spirit. But that 
co-ordination proves that it recognizes only such an abstract 
unity; so that while it gives judgment respecting philo- 
sophy, it is ignorant of that very point which constitutes the 
interest of philosophy. 

But there are also spheres which, amid all the variety that 
is presented in the substantial content of a particular form of 
culture, remain tlie same. The difference above mentioned 
in art, science, philosophy, concerns the thinking Eeason and 
Freedom, which is the self-consciousness of the former, and 
which has the same one root with Thought. As it is not the 
brute, but only theman thatthinks, he only — and only because 
he is a thinking being — has Freedom. Sis consciousness im- 
ports this, that the individual comprehends itself as 2k person, 
that is, recognizes itself in its single existence as possessing 
universality, — as capable of abstraction from, and of surren- 
dering all speciality; and, therefore, as inherently infinite. 
Consequently those spheres of intelligence which lie beyond 
the limits of this consciousness are a common ground among 



74 INTRODTJCTIOIT. 

those substantial distinctions. Even morality, wliicli is so 
intimately connected with the consciousness of freedom, can 
be very pure while that consciousness is still wanting ; as 
far, that is to say, as it expresses duties and rights only as 
objective commands ; or even as far as it remains satisfied 
with the merely formal elevation of the soul — the surrender 
of the sensual, and of all sensual motives — in a purely nega- 
tive, self-denying fashion. The Chinese morality — since 
Europeans have become acquainted with it and with the 
writings of Confucius —has obtained the greatest praise and 
proportionate attention from those who are familiar with the 
Christian morality. There is a similar acknowledgment of 
the sublimity with which the Indian religion and poetry, 
(a statement that must, however, be limited to the higher 
kind), but especially the Indian philosophy, expatiate upon 
and demand the removal and sacrifice of sensuality. Yet 
both these nations are, it must be confessed, ^w^2V^Zy wanting 
in the essential consciousness of the Idea of Freedom. To 
the Chinese their moral laws are just like natural laws, — 
external, positive commands, — claims established by force, — 
compulsory duties or rules of courtesy towards each other. 
Freedom, through which alone the essential determinations 
of Eeason become moral sentiments, is wanting. Morality 
is a political aifair, and its laws are administered by officers 
of government and legal tribunals. Their treatises upon it, 
(which are not law books, but are certainly addressed to the 
subjective will and individual disposition) read, — as do the 
moral writings of the Stoics, — like a string of commands 
stated as necessary for realizing the goal of happiness ; so 
that it seems to be left free to men, on their part, to 
adopt such commands, — to observe them or not; while the 
conception of an abstract subject, " a wise man" [Sapiens] 
forms the culminating point among the Chinese, as also 
among the Stoic moralists. Also in the Indian doctrine of the 
renunciation of the sensuality of desires and earthly interests, 
positive moral freedom is not the object and end, but the 
annihilation of consciousness — spiritual and even physical 
privation of life. 

It is the concrete spirit of a people which we have dis- 
tinctly to recognize, and since it is Spirit it can only be com- 
prehended spiritually, that is, by thought. It is this alone 



PEIMA FACIE ASPECT OF HISTORY. 75 

wMcli takes the lead in all the deeds and tendencies of that 
people, and which is occupied in realizing itself, — in satisfying 
its ideal and becoming self-conscious, — for its great business 
is self-production. But for spirit, the highest attainment is 
self-knowledge ; an advance not only to the intuition, but 
to the thought — the clear conception of itself. This it 
must and is also destined to accomplish; but the accom- 
plishment is at the same time its dissolution, and the rise of 
another spirit, another world-historical people, another 
epoch of Universal History. This transition and connection 
leads us to the connection of the whole — the idea of the 
World's History as such — which we have now to consider 
more closely, and of which we have to give a representation. 
History in general is therefore the development of 
Spirit in Time^ as Nature is the development of the Idea in 



If then we cast a glance over the "World' s-History 
generally, we see a vast picture of changes and transactions ; 
of infinitely manifold forms of peoples, states, individuals, in 
unresting succession. Everything that can enter into and 
interest the soul of man — all our sensibility to goodness, 
heauty, and greatness — is c&lled into play. On every hand 
aims are adopted and pursued, which we recognize, whose 
accomplishment we desire — we liope and fear for them. In 
all these occurrences and changes we behold human action 
and sufiering predominant ; everywhere something akin to 
ourselves, and therefore everywhere something that excites 
Dur interest for or against. Sometimes it attracts us by 
beauty, freedom, and rich variety, sometimes by energy such 
as enables even vice to make itself interesting. Sometimes 
we see the more comprehensive mass of some general interest 
advancing with comparative slowness, and subsequently 
sacrificed to an infinite complication of trifling circumstances, 
and so dissipated into atoms. Then, again, with a vast ex- 
penditure of power a trivial result is produced ; while from 
what appears unimportant a tremendous issue proceeds. On 
every hand there is the motliest throng of events drawing 
us within the circle of its interest, and when one combination 
vanishes another immediately appears in its place. 

The general thought — the category which first presents 
itself in this restless mutation of individuals and peoples. 



76 INTBODUCTION. 

existing for a time and then vanishing — is that of change at 
large. The sight of the ruins of some ancient sovereignty 
directly leads us to contemplate this thought of change in 
its negative aspect. "What traveller among the ruins of 
Carthage, of Palmyra, Persepolis, or Eome, has not been 
stimulated to reflections on the transiency of kingdoms and 
men, and to sadness at the thought of a vigorous and rich 
life now departed - a sadness which does not expend itself 
on personal losses and the uncertainty of one's own under- 
takings, but is a disinterested sorrow at the decay of a splendid 
and highly cultured national life ! But the next consideration 
which allies itself with that of change, is, that change while 
it imports dissolution, involves at the same time the rise of 
a new life — that while death is the issue of life, life is also 
the issue of death. This is a grand conception ; one which 
the Oriental thinkers attained, and which is perhaps the 
highest in their metaphysics. In the idea of Metempsychosis 
we find it evolved in its relation to individual existence ; but 
a myth more generally known, is that of the Phoenix as 
a type of the Life of Nature ; eternally preparing for itself 
its funeral pile, and consuming itself upon it ; but so that 
from its ashes is produced the new, renovated, fresh life. But 
this image is only Asiatic ; oriental not occidental. Spirit — 
consuming the envelope of its existence — does not merely 
pass into another envelope, nor rise rejuvenescent from the 
ashes of its previous form ; it comes forth exalted, glorified, 
a purer spirit. It certainly makes war upon itself — con- 
sumes its own existence ; but in this very destruction it works 
tip that existence into a new form, and each successive phase 
becomes in its turn a material, working on which it exalts 
itself to a new grade. 

If we consider Spirit in this aspect — regarding its changes 
not merely as rejuvenescent transitions, i. e., returns to the 
same form, but rather as manipulations of itself, by which it 
multiplies the material for future endeavours — we see 
it exerting itself in a variety of modes and directions ; 
developing its powers and gratifying its desires in a variety 
which is inexhaustible ; because every one of its creations, in 
which it has already found gratification, meets it anew as 
material, and is a new stimulus to plastic activity. The 
abstract conception of mere change gives place to the thought 



ACTIVITY CHAEACTERISTIO OF " SPIEIT. {1 

of Spirit manifesting, developing, and perfecting its powers 
in every direction which its manifold nature can follow. 
"What powers it inherently possesses we learn from the 
variety of products and formations which it originates. In 
this pleasurable activity, it has to do only with itself. As 
involved with the conditions of mere nature— internal and 
external — it will indeed meet in these not only opposition and 
hindrance, but will often see its endeavours thereby fail ; 
often sink under the complications in which it is entangled 
either by Nature or by itself. But in such case it perishes 
in fulfilling its own destiny and proper function, and even 
thus exhibits the spectacle of self-demonstration as spiritual 
activity. 

The very essence of Spirit is activity ; it realizes its 
potentiality — makes itself its own deed, its own work — and 
thus it becomes an object to itself ; contemplates itself as an 
objective existence. Thus is it with the Spirit of a people : it 
is a Spirit having strictly defined characteristics, which erects 
itself into an objective world, that exists and persists in a par- 
ticular religious form of worship, customs, constitution, and 
political laws, — in the whole complex of its institutions, — ^in 
the events and transactions that make up its history. That is 
its work — that is what this particular Nation is. Nations are 
what their deeds are. Every Englishman will say : "We are 
the men who navigate the ocean, and have the commerce of 
the world ; to whom the East Indies belong and their riches * 
who have a parliament, juries, &c. - The relation of the in- 
dividual to that Spirit is that he appropriates to himself this 
substantial existence ; that it becomes his character and capa- 
bility, enabling him to have a definite place in the world— to 
be something. Eor he finds the beiug of the people to which he 
belongs an already established, firm world — objectively pre- 
sent to him — with which he has to incorporate himself. In this 
its work, therefore —its world — the Spirit of the people enjoys 
its existence and finds its satisfaction. — A Nation is moral — 
virtuous — vigorous — while it is engaged in realizing its grand 
objects, and defends its work against external violence during 
the process of giving to its purposes an objective existence. 
The contradiction between its potential, subjective being — 
its inner aim and life — and its actual being is removed ; it 
has attained full reality, has itself objectively present to it. 



78 INTRODUCTION. 

But this having been attained, the activity displayed by the 
Spirit of the people in question is no longer needed ; it has 
its desire. The Nation can still accomplish much in war and 
peace at home and abroad ; but the living substantial soul 
itself may be said to have ceased its activity. The essential, 
supreme interest has consequently vanished from its life, for 
interest is present only where there is opposition. The 
nation lives the same kind of life as the individual when 
passing from maturity to old age, — in the enjoyment of itself, 
— in the satisfaction of being exactly what it desired and was 
.able to attain. Although its imagination might have tran- 
scended that limit, it nevertheless abandoned any such aspira- 
tions as objects of actual endeavour, if the real world was 
less than favourable to their attainment, — and restricted its 
aim by the conditions thus imposed. This mere customary 
life (the watch wound up and going on of itself) is that 
which brings on natural death. Custom is activity without 
opposition, for which there remains only a formal duration ; 
in which the fulness and zest that originally characterised 
the aim of life is out of the question, — a merely external 
sensuous existence which has ceased to throw itself enthu- 
siastically into its object. Thus perish individuals, thus 
perish peoples by a natural death ; and though the latter may 
continue in being, it is an existence without intellect or vita- 
lity ; having no need of its institutions, because the need 
for them is satisfied,— a political nullity and tedium. In 
order that a truly universal interest may arise, the Spirit of 
a People must advance to the adoption of souie new purpose : 
but whence can this new purpose originate ? It would be a 
higher, more comprehensive conception of itself — a tran- 
scending of its principle — but this very act would involve a 
principle of a new order, a new National Spirit. 
■ Such a new principle does in fact enter into the Spirit of 
a people that has arrived at full development and self-realiza- 
tion ; it dies not a simply natural death, —for it is not a mere 
single individual, but a spiritual, generic life ; in its case 
natural death appears to imply destruction through its own 
agency. The reason of this difference from the single 
natural individual, is that the Spirit of a people exists as a 
genus, and consequently carries within it its own negation, 
in the very generahty which characterizes it. A people can 



CHKONOS AND ZETTS. 79 

only die a violent death when it has become naturally dead 
in itself, as e. g., the Grerman Imperial Cities, the German 
Imperial Constitution. 

It is not of the nature of the all-pervading Spirit to die 
this merely natural death ; it does not simply sink into the 
senile life of mere custom, but — as being a National Spirit 
belonging to Universal History — attains to the conscious- 
ness of what its work is ; it attains to a conception of itself. 
In fact it is world-historical only in so far as a universal 
pHnciple has lain in its fundamental element, — in its grand 
aim : only so far is the work which such a spirit produces, 
a moral, political organization. If it be mere desires that 
impel nations to activity, such deeds pass over without leav- 
ing a trace ; or their traces are only ruin and destruction. 
Thus, it was first Chronos — Time — that ruled; the Golden 
Age, without moral products ; and what was produced — the 
offspring of that Chronos — was devoured by it. It was 
Jupiter — from whose head Minerva sprang, and to whose 
circle of divinities belongs Apollo and the Muses — that first 
put a constraint upon Time, and set a bound to its principle 
of decadence. He is the Political god, who produced a 
moral work — the State. 

In the very element of an achievement the quality of gene- 
rality, of thought, is coDtained ; without thought it has no ob- 
jectivity ; that is its basis. The highest point in the develop- 
ment of a people is this, — to have gained a conception of its 
life and condition, — to have reduced its laws, its ideas of jus- 
tice and morality to a science ; for in this unity [of the 
objective and subjective] lies the most intimate unity that 
Spirit can attain to in and with itself. In its work it is 
employed in rendering itself an object of its own contempla- 
tion ; but it cannot develop itself objectively in its essential 
nature, except in tJiinking itself. 

At this point, then, Spirit is acquainted with its princi- 
ples—the general character of its acts. But at the same 
time, in virtue of its very generality, this work of thought 
is different in point of form from the actual achievements of 
the national genius, and from the vital agency by which those 
achievements have been performed. We have then before 
us a real and an ideal existence of the Spirit of the Nation. 
If we wish to gain the general idea and conception of what 



80 INTEODtlCTIOS'. 

the G-reeks were, we find it in Sophocles and Aristophanee, 
in Thucydides and Plato. In these individuals the Greek 
spirit conceived and thought itself. This is the profounder 
kind of satisfaction which the Spirit of a people attains ; but 
it is "ideal," and distinct from its "real" activity. 

At such a time, therefore, we are sure to see a people find- 
ing satisfaction in the idea of virtue ; putting talk about 
virtue partly side by side with actual virtue, but partly in 
\he place of it. On the otlier hand pure, universal thought, 
since its nature is universality, is apt to bring the Special and 
Spontaneous — Belief, Trust, Customary Morality — to reflect 
upon itself, and its primitive simplicity ; to shew up the limi- 
tation with which it is fettered, — partly suggesting reasons 
for renouncing duties, partly itself demanding reasons, and 
the connection of such requirements with Universal Thought ; 
and not finding that connection, seeking to impeach the 
authority of duty generally, as destitute of a sound founda- 
tion. 

At the same time the isolation of indi\dduals from each 
other and from the AVhole makes its appearance ; their aggres- 
sive selfishness and vanity ; their seeking personal advantage 
and consulting this at the expense of the State at large. That 
inward principle in transcending its outward manifestations 
is subjective also in form — viz., selfishness and corruption 
in the unbound passions and egotistic interests of men. 

Zeus, therefore, who is represented as having put a limit 
to the devouring agency of Time, and staid this transiency 
by having established something inherently and indepen- 
dently durable — Zeus and his race are themselves swallowed 
up, and that by the very power that produced them, — the prin- 
ciple of thought, perception, reasoning, insight derived from 
rational grounds, and the requirement of such grounds. 

Time is the negative element in the sensuous world. 
Thought is the same negativity, but it is the deepest, the 
infinite form of it, in whicli therefore all existence generally 
is dissolved ; ^v&t finite existence, — determinate, limited form : 
but existence generally, in its objective character, is limited ; 
it appears therefore as a mere datum — something immediate 
— authority; — and is either intrinsically finite and limited, or 
presents itself as a limit for the thinking subject, and its 
infinite reflection on itself [unlimited abstraction]. 



StJMMABY. 81 

But first we must observe how the life which proceeds 
from death, is itself, on the other hand, only individual life ; 
so that, regarding the species as the real and substantial in 
this vicissitude, the perishing of the individual is a regress of 
the species into individuality. The perpetuation of the race 
is, therefore, none other than the monotonous repetition of 
the same kind of existence. Eurther, we must remark how 
perception, — the comprehension of being by thought, — is the 
source and birthplace of a new, and in fact higher form, in 
a principle which while it preserves, dignifies its material. 
Por Thought is that Universal — that Species which is im- 
mortal, which preserves identity with itself. The particular 
form of Spirit not merely passes away in the world by natural 
causes in Time, but is annulled in the automatic self-mir- 
roring activity of consciousness. Because this annulling ie 
an activity of Thought, it is at the same time conservative 
and elevating in its operation. While then, on the one side, 
Spirit annuls the reality, the permanence of that which it 
is, it gains on the other side, the essence, the Thought, the 
Universal element of that which it only loas [its transient 
conditions]. Its principle is no longer that immediate 
import and aim which it was previously, but the essence of 
that import and aim. 

The result of this process is then that Spirit, in render- 
ing itself objective and making this its being an object of 
thought, on the one hand destroys the determinate form of 
its being, on the other hand gains a comprehension of the 
universal element which it involves, and thereby gives a new 
form to its inherent principle. In virtue of this, the sub- 
stantial character of the National Spirit has been altered, — 
that is, its principle has risen into another, and in fact a 
higher principle. 

It is of the highest importance in apprehending and com- 
prehending History to have and to understand the thought 
involved in this transition. The individual traverses as a 
unity various grades of development, and remains the same 
individual ; in like manner also does a people, till the Spirit 
which it embodies reaches the grade of universality. In this 
point lies the fundamental, the Ideal necessity of transition. 
This is the soul — the essential consideration — of the philoso- 
phical comprehension of History. 

* a 



82 



INTEODUCTIOlTe 



Spirit is essentially the result of its own activity: U 
activity is the transcending of immediate, simple, nnre 
fleeted existence, — the negation of that existence, and the 
returning into itself. We may compare it with the seed ; 
for with this the plant begins, yet it is also the result of the 
plant's entire life. But the weak side of life is exhibited in 
the fact that the commencement and the result are disjoined 
from eacli other. Thus also is it in the life of individuals 
and peoples. The life of a people ripens a certain fruit ; its 
activity aims at the complete manifestation of the principle 
which it embodies. But this fruit does not fall back into 
the bosom of the people that produced and matured it ; on 
the contrary, it becomes a poison-draught to it. That poison- 
draught it cannot let alone, for it has an insatiable thirst for 
it : the taste of the draught is its annihilation, though at the 
same time the rise of a new principle. 

A\'^e have already discussed the final aim of this progression. 
The principles of the successive phases of Spirit that animate 
the Nations in a necessitated gradation, are themselves only 
steps in tlie development of the one universal Spirit, which 
through them elevates and completes itself to a self-compre- 
hending totality. 

While we are thus concerned exclusively with the Idea of 
Spirit, and in the History of the World regard everything 
as only its manifestation, we have, in traversing the past, — 
however extensive its periods, — only to do with what is 'pre- 
sent ; for philosophy, as occupying itself with the True, has 
to do with the eternally present. Nothing in the past is lost 
for it, for the Idea is ever present ; Spirit is immortal ; with it 
there is no past, no future, but an essential now. This 
necessarily implies that the prese nt form of Spirit compre- 
liends within it all earlier steps. These have indeed unfolded 
themselves in succession independently ; but what Spirit is 
it has always been essentially ; distinctions are only the 
development of this essential nature. The life of the ever 
present Spirit is a circle of progressive embodiments, which 
looked at in one aspect still exist beside each other, and only 
as looked at from another point of view appear as past. 
The grades which Spirit seems to have left behind it, it still 
possesses in the depths of its present. 



«?3 



OEOGEArniCAL BASIS OP HISTOBY. 

Contrasted with the universality of the moral "Whole and 
with the unity of that individuality which is its active prin- 
ciple, the natural connection that helps to produce the 
Spirit of a People, appears an extrinsic element ; but inasmuch 
as we must regard it as the ground on which that Spirit 
plays its part, it is an essential and necessary basis. "We 
began with the assertion that, in the History of the World, ' 
the Idea of Spirit appears in its actual embodiment as a series 
of external forms, each one of which declares itself as an 
actually existing people. This existence falls under the 
category of Time as well as Space, in the way of natural 
existence ; and the special principle, which every world- 
historical people embodies, has this principle at the same 
time as a natural characteristic. Spirit, clothing itself in 
this form of nature, suffers its particular phases to assume 
separate existence ; for mutual exclusion is the mode of 
existence proper to mere nature. These natural distinctions 
must be first of all regarded as special possibilities, from 
which the Spirit of the people in question germinates, and 
among them is the Greographical Basis. It is not our concern 
to become acquainted with the land occupied by nations as 
an external locale, but with the natural type of the locality, 
as intimately connected with the type and character of the 
people which is the offspring of such a soil. This character 
is nothing more nor less than the mode and form in which 
nations make their appearance in History, and take place 
and position in it. Nature should not be rated too high nor 
too low : the mild Ionic sky certainly contributed much to 
the charm of the Homeric poems, yet this alone can produce 
no Homers. Nor in fact does it continue to produce them ; 
under Turkish government no bards have arisen. We must 
first take notice of those natural conditions which have to 
be excluded once for all from the drama of the World's 
History. In the Frigid and in the Torrid zone the locality of 
World-historical peoples cannot be found. Tor awakening 
consciousness takes its rise surrounded by natural in- 
fluences alone, and every development of it is the reflection 
of Spirit back upon itself in opposition to the immediate, 



B4i 



IKTEODUCTION. 



unreflected character of mere nature. Nature is thereforo 

one element in this antithetic abstracting process ; JSTature is 
the first stand point from which man can gain freedom within 
himself, and this liberation must not be rendered difficult by 
natural obstructions. Nature, as contrasted with Spirit, is a 
quantitative mass, whose power must not be so great as 
to make its single force omnipotent. In the extreme zones 
man cannot come to free movement ; cold and heat are here 
too powerful to allow Spirit to build up a world for itself. 
Aristotle said long ago, " When pressing needs are satisfied, 
man turns to the general and more elevated." But in the 
extreme zones such pressure may be said never to cease, 
never to be warded off*; men are constantly impelled to 
direct attention to nature, to the glowing rays of the sun, 
and the icy frost. The true theatre of History is therefore 
the temperate zone ; or rather, its northern half, because 
the earth there presents itself in a continental form, and has 
a broad breast, as the Greeks say. In the south, on the 
contrary, it divides itself, and runs out into many points. 
The same peculiarity shews itself in natural products. The 
north has many kinds of animals and plants with common 
characteristics ; in the south, where the land divides itself 
into points, natural forms also present individual features 
contrasted with each other. 

The World is divided into Old and New ; the name of 2^ew 
having originated in the fact that America and Australia 
have only lately became known to us. But these parts of 
the world are not only relatively new, but intrinsically so in 
respect of their entire physical and psychical constitution. 
Their geological antiquity \^'e have nothing to do with. I 
will not deny the New AVorld the honour of having emerged 
from the sea at the world's formation contemporaneously 
with the old : yet the Archipelago between South America 
and Asia shews a physical immaturity. The greater part of 
the islands are so constituted, that they are, as it were, only 
a superficial deposit of earth over rocks, which shoot up from 
the fathomless deep, and bear the character of novel origina- 
tion. New Holland shews a not less immature geographical 
character; for in penetrating from the settlements of the 
English farther into the country, we discover immense 
streams, which have not yet developed themselves to such a 



THE ITEW WORLD. 85 

degree as to dig a channel for themselves, but lose them- 
selves in marshes. Of America and its grade of civilization, 
especially in Mexico and Peru, we have information, but 
it imports nothing more than that this culture was an 
entirely national one, which must expire as soon as Spirit 
approached it. America has always shewn itself physically 
and psychically powerless, and still shews itself so. Tor the 
aborigines, after the landing of the Europeans in America, 
gradually vanished at the breath of European activity. In 
the United States of North A.merica all the citizens are of 
European descent, with whom the old inhabitants could not 
amalgamate, but were driven back. The aborigines have 
certainly adopted some arts and usages from the Europeans, 
among others that of brandy- drinking, which has operated 
with deadly effect. In the South the natives were treated 
with much greater violence, and employed in hard labours to 
which their strength was by no means competent. A mild 
and passionless disposition, want of spirit, and a crouching 
submissiveness towards a Creole, and still more towards a 
European, are the chief characteristics of the native Ameri- 
cans ; and it will be long before the Europeans succeed in 
producing any independence of feeling in them. The infe- 
riority of these individuals in all respects, even in regard to 
size, is very manifest ; only the quite southern races in 
Patagonia are more vigorous natures, but still abiding in 
their natural condition of rudeness and barbarism. When the 
Jesuits and the Catholic clergy proposed to accustom the In- 
dians to European culture and manners (they have, as is well 
known, founded a state in Paraguay and convents in Mexico 
and California), they commenced a close intimacy with them, 
and prescribed for them the duties of the day, which, sloth- 
ful though their disposition was, they complied with under the 
authority of the Eriars. These prescripts, (at midnight a bell 
had to remind them even of their matrimonial duties,) were 
first, and very wisely, directed to the creation of wants — the 
springs of human activity generally. The weakness of the 
American physique was a chief reason for bringing the 
negroes to America, to employ their labour in the Avork that 
had to be done in the New World ; for the negroes are far 
more susceptible of European culture than the Indians, and 
an English traveller has adduced instance? of negroes having 



86 INTRODFCTIOy. 

})ecome competent clergymen, medical men, &c. (a negro 
tirst discovered the use of the Peruvian bark), while only a 
single native was known to him whose intellect was suffi- 
ciently developed to enable him to study, but who had died 
soon after beginning, through excessive brandy-drinking. 
The weakness of the human physique of America has been 
aggravated by a deficiency in the mere tools and appliances 
of progress, — the want of horses and iron, the chief instru- 
ments by which they were subdued. 

The original nation having vanished or nearly so, the 
eftective population comes for the most part from Europe ; 
and what takes place in America, is but an emanation from 
Europe. Europe has sent its surplus population to America 
in much the same way as from the old Imperial Cities, 
where trade-guilds were dominant and trade was stereotyped, 
many persons escaped to other towns which were not under 
such a yoke, and where the burden of imposts was not so 
heavy. Thus arose, by the side of Hamburg, Altona, — by 
Frankfort, Offenbach,— by Nurnburg, Eiirth, — and Carouge 
by G-eneva. The relation between North America and Europe 
is similar. Many Englishmen have settled there, where 
burdens and imposts do not exist, and where the combina- 
tion of European appliances and European ingenuity has 
availed to realize some produce from the extensive and still 
virgin soil. Indeed the emigration in question offers many 
advantages. The emigrants have got rid of much that 
might be obstructive to their interests at home, while they 
take with them the advantages of European independence 
of spirit, and acquired skill ; while for those who are willing 
to work vigorously, but who have not found in Europe 
opportunities for doing so, a sphere of action is certainly 
presented in America. 

America, as is well known, is divided into two parts, con- 
nected indeed byan isthmus,butwhich has not been the means 
of establishing intercourse between them. Rather, these 
two divisions are most decidedly distinct from each other. 
North America shews us on approaching it, along its eastern 
shore a wide border of level coast, behind which is stretched 
a chain of mountains — the blue mountams or Apalachians ; 
further north the AUeghanies. Streams issuing from them 
water the country towards the coast, which affords advan- 



AMERICA. 87 

tages of the most desirable kind to the United States, whose 
origin belongs to this region. Behind that mountain-chain 
the St. Lawrence river flows, (in connection with huge 
lakes), from south to north, and on this river lie the northern 
colonies of Canada. Farther west we meet the basin of the 
vast Mississippi, and the basins of the Missouri and Ohio, 
which it receives, and then debouches into the bay of Mexico. 
On the western side of this region we have in like manner 
a long mountain chain, running through Mexico and the 
Isthmus of Panama, and under the names of the Andes or 
■ Cordillera, cutting off an edge of coast along the whole 
west side of South America. The border formed by this is 
narrower and offers fewer advantages than that of North 
America. There lie Peru and Chili. On the east side flow 
eastwards the monstrous streams of the Orinoco and Ama- 
zons ; they form great valleys, not adapted however for 
cultivation, since they are only wide desert steppes. Towards 
the south flows the Rio de la Plata, whose tributaries have 
their origin partly in the Cordilleras, partly in the northern 
chain of mountains which separates the basin of the Ama- 
zons from its own. To tlie district of the Eio de la Plata 
belong Brazil, and the Spanish Eepublics. Columbia is the 
northern coast-land of South America, at the west of which, 
flowing along the Andes, the Magdalena debouches into the 
Caribbean Sea. 

With the exception of Brazil, republics have come to 
occupy South as well as North America. In comparing 
South America (reckoning Mexico as part of it) with North 
America, we observe an astonishing contrast. 

In North America we witness a prosperous state of things, 
an increase of industry and population, civil order and firm 
freedom ; the whole federation constitutes but a single 
state, and has its political centres. In South America, on 
the contrary, the republics depend only on military force ; 
their whole history is a continued revolution; federated 
states become disunited ; others previously separated become 
united ; and all these changes originate in military revolu- 
tions. The more special differences between the two parts of 
America shew us two opposite directions, the one in political 
respects, the other in regard to religion. South America, 
where the Spaniards settled and asserted supremacy, is Ca- 
tholic; North America, although a land of sects of every name, 



88 INTllODUCTlON. 

is yet ftindaiuentally, Protestant. A wider distinction is pre« 
sented in the fact, that South America was conquered, but 
JSTorth America colonised. The Spaniards took possession 
of South America to govern it, and to become rich through 
occupying political offices, and by exactions. Depending 
on a very distant mother-country, their desires found a 
larger scope, and by force address and confidence they gained 
a great predominance over the Indians. The North Ameri- 
c^m States were, on tlie other hand, entirely colonised, by 
Europeans. Since in England Puritans, Episcopalians, and 
Catholics were engaged in perpetual conflict, and now one 
party, now the other had the upper hand, many emigrated 
to seek religious freedom on a foreign shore. These were 
industrious Europeans, who betook themselves to agriculture, 
tobacco and cotton planting, &c. Soon the whole attention 
of the inhabitants was given to labour, and the basis of their 
existence as a united body lay in the necessities that bind 
man to man, the desire of repose, the establishment of civil 
i-ights, security and freedom, and a community arising from 
the aggregation of individuals as atomic constituents ; so that 
the state was merely something external for the protection 
of property. From the Protestant religion sprang the prin- 
ciple of the mutual confidence of individuals, — trust in the 
Jionourable dispositions of other men ; for in the Protestant 
Church the entire life — its activity generally — is the field 
for what it deems religious works. Among Catholics, on the 
contrary, the basis of such a confidence cannot exist ; for 
in secular matters only force and voluntary subservience are 
the principles of action ; and the forms which are called 
Constitutions are in this case only a resort of necessity, and 
are no protection against mistrust. 

If we compare North America further with Europe, we 
shall find in the former the permanent example of a repub- 
lican constitution. A subjective unity presents itself; for 
there is a President at the head of the State, who, for the 
sake of security against any monarchical ambition, is chosen 
only for four years. Universal protection for property, and 
a something approaching entire immunity from public bur- 
dens, are facts which are constantly held up to commenda- 
tion. We have in these facts the fundamental character of 
the community, — the endeavour of the individual after ac- 
quisition, commercial profit, and gain ; the preponderance of 



>^ORTH AMERICA. 89 

private interest, devoting itself to that of the comnmuity 
only for its own advantage. AVe find, certainly, legal rela- 
tions — a formal code of laws ; but respect for law exists 
apart from genuine probity, and the American merchants 
commonly lie under the imputation of dishonest dealings 
under legal protection. If, on the one side, the Protestant 
Church develops the essential principle of confidence, as 
already stated, it thereby involves on the other hand the re- 
cognition of the validity of the element of feeling to such a 
degree as gives encouragement to unseemly varieties of 
caprice. Those who adopt this stand-point maintain, that, 
as every one may have his peculiar way of viewing things 
generally, so he may have also a religion peculiar to himself. 
Thence the splitting up into so many sects, which reach the 
very acme of absurdity ; many of which have a form of 
worship consisting in convulsive movements, and sometimes 
in the most sensuous extravagances. This complete freedom 
of worship is developed to such a degree, that the various con- 
gregations choose ministers and dismiss them according to their 
absolute pleasure ; for the Church is no independent existence, 
— having a substantial spiritual being, and correspondingly 
permanent external arrangement, — buttheafiairs of religion 
are regulated by the good pleasure for the time being of the^ 
members of the community. In North America the most 
unbounded licence of imagination in religious matters pre- 
vails, and that religious unity is wanting which has been 
maintained in European States, where deviations are limited 
to a few confessions. As to the political condition of Korth 
America, the general object of the existence of this State is 
not yet fixed and determined, and the necessity for a firm 
combination does not yet exist ; for a real State and a real 
Government arise only after a distinction of classes has 
arisen, when wealth and poverty become extreme, and when 
such a condition of things presents itself that a large portion of 
the people can no longer satisfy its necessities in the way in 
which it has been accustomed so to do. But America is hitherto 
exempt from this pressure, for it has the outlet of coloniza- 
tion constantly and widely open, and multitudes are con- 
tinually streaming into the plains of the Mississippi. By 
this means the chief source of discontent is removed, and the 
continuation of the. existing civil condition is guaranteed. A 
comparison of the United States of North America with 



90 INTRODUCTION. 

Kuropean Lmds is therefore impossible; for in Europe, such 
a natural outlet for population, notwithstanding all the emi- 
grations that take place, does not exist. Had the woods of 
G-ermany been in existence, the French Revolution would 
not have occurred. Xorth America will be comparable with 
Europe only after the immeasurable space which that 
country presents to its inhabitants shall have been occupied, 
and the members of the political body shall have begun to be 
pressed back on each other. JSTorth America is still in the 
condition of having laud to begin to cultivate. Only when, 
as in Europe, the direct increase of agriculturists is checked, 
will the inhabitants, instead of pressing outwards to occupy 
the fields, press inwards upon each other, —pursuing town 
occupations, and trading with their fellow citizens ; and so 
form a compact system of civil society, and require an organized 
state. The North American Federation have no neighbouring 
State, (towards which they occupy a relation similar to that of 
European States to each other), one which they regard with 
mistrust, and against which they must keep up a standing 
army. Canada and Mexico are not objects of fear, and Eng- 
land has had fifty years experience, that free America is 
more profitable to her than it was in a state of dependence. 
The militia of the North American Republic proved them- 
selves quite as brave in the War of Independence, as the 
Dutch under Philip II. ; but generally, where Independence 
is not at stake, less power is displayed, and in the year 1814 
the militia held out but indiflerently against the English. 

America is therefore the laud of the future, where, in the 
ages that lie before us, the burden of the World's History 
shall reveal itself, — perhaps in a contest between North and 
South America. It is a land of desire for all those who are 
weary of the historical lumber-room of old Europe. Na- 
poleon is reported to have said, " Cette vieille Europe 
m'ennuie." It is for America to abandon the ground on 
which hitherto the History of the World has developed itself. 
What lias taken place in the New World up to the present 
time is only an echo of the Old World, — the expression of 
a foreign Life ; and as a Land of the Future, it has no 
interest for us here, for, as regards History, our concern 
must be with that which has been and that which is. In re- 
gard to Philosophyy on the other hand, we have to do with 



THE OLD WORLD. 91 

that which (strictly speaking) is neither past nor future, but 
with thai which is, which has an eternal existence — with 
Beason ; and this is quite sufficient to occupy us. 

Dismissing, then, the New World, and the dreams to 
which it may give rise, we pass over to the Old World — the 
scene of the World's History ; and must first direct atten- 
tion to the natural elements and conditions of existence 
which it presents. America is divided into two parts, which 
are indeed connected by an Isthmus, but which forms 
only an external, material bond of union. The Old World, 
on the contrary, which lies opposite to America, and is sepa- 
rated from it by the Atlantic Ocean, has its continuity in- 
terrupted by a deep inlet— the Mediterranean Sea. The 
three Continents that compose it have an essential relation 
to each other, and constitute a totality. Their peculiar fea- 
ture is that they lie round this Sea, and therefore have an 
easy means of communication ; for rivers and seas are not to 
be regarded as disjoining, but as uniting. England and 
Brittany, Norway and Denmark, Sweden and Livonia, have 
been united. Por the three quarters of the globe the Medi- 
terranean Sea is similarly the uniting element, and the centre 
of World-History. Grreece lies here, the focus of light in 
History. Then in Syria we have Jerusalem, the centre of 
Judaism and of Christianity ; south-east of it lie Mecca and 
Medina, the cradle of the Mussulman faith ; towards the 
west Delphi and Athens ; farther west still, E,ome : on the 
Mediterranean Sea we have also Alexandria and Carthage. 
The Mediterranean is thus the heart of the Old World, for it 
is that which conditioned and vitalized it. Without it the 
History of the World could. not be conceived: it would be 
like ancient E/Ome or Athens without the forum, where all 
the life of the city came together. The extensive tract of 
eastern Asia is severed from the process of general historical 
development, and has no share in it ; so also Northern Europe, 
which took part in the World's History only at a later date, 
and had no part in it while the Old World lasted ; for this was 
exclusively limited to the countries lying round the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. Julius Caesar's crossing the Alps — the conquest 
of Graul and the relation into which the G-ermans thereby 
entered with the Eoman Empire — makes consequently an 
epoch in History ; for in virtue of this it begins to extend its 



92 INTEODUCTION. 

boundaries beyond the Alps. Eastern Asia and that trans- 
Alpine country are the extremes of this agitated focus of 
human life around the Mediterranean, — the beginning and 
end of History, — its rise and decline. 

The more special geographical distinctions must now be 
established, and they are to be regarded as essential, rational 
distinctions, in contrast with the variety of merely accidental 
circumstances. Of these characteristic differences there are 
three : — 

(1.) The arid elevated land with its extensive steppes and 
plains. 

( 2.) The valley plains, — the Land of Transition permeated 
and watered by great Streams. 

(3.) The coast region in immediate connection with the sea. 

These three geographical elements are the essential ones, 
and we shall see each quarter of the globe triply divided ac- 
cordingly. The first is the substantial, unvarying, metallic, 
elevated region, intractably shut up within itself, but per- 
haps adapted to send forth impulses over the rest of the 
world ; the second forms centres of civilization, and is the yet 
undeveloped independence [of humanity] ; the third offers 
the means of connecting the world together, and of main- 
taining the connection. 

(1.) The elevated land. "We see such a description of 
country in middle Asia inhabited by Mongolians, (using the 
word in a general sense) : from the Caspian Sea these Steppes 
stretch in a northerly direction towards the Black Sea. 
As similar tracts may be cited the deserts of Arabia and of 
Barbary in Africa ; in South America the country round the 
Orinoco, and in Paraguay. The pecuharity of the inhabi- 
tants of this elevated region, which is watered sometimes 
only by rain, or by the overflowing of a river, (as are the 
plains of the Orinoco) — is the patriarchal life, the division 
into single families. The region which these families occupy 
is unfruitful or productive only temporarily : the inhabitants 
have their property not in the land, — from which they derive 
only a trifling profit, — but in the animals that wander with 
them. For a long time these find pasture in the plains, and 
when they are depastured, the tribe moves to other parts of 
the country. They are careless and provide nothing^ for the 
winter, on which account therefore, half of the herd is fre- 



GEOGRAPHICAL DIVISIONS. G3 

quently cut off. Among these inhabitants of the upland there 
exist no legal relations, and consequently there are exhibited 
among them the extremes of hospitality and rapine ; the last 
more especially when they are surrounded by civilized na- 
tions, as the Arabians, who are assisted in their depredations 
by their horses and camels. The MongoHans feed on mare's 
milk, and thus the horse supplies them at the same time with 
appliances for nourishment and for war. Although this is 
the form of their patriarchal life, it often happens that they 
cohere together in great masses, and by an impulse of one 
kind or another, are excited to external movement. Though 
previously of peaceful disposition, they then rush as a devas- 
tating inundation over civilized lands, and the revolution 
which ensues has no other result than destruction and deso- 
lation. Such an agitation was excited among those tribes 
under Zengis Khan and Tamerlane : they destroyed all 
before them ; then vanished again, as does an overwhelming 
Forest-torrent, — possessing no inherent principle of vitality. 
From the uplands they rush down into the dells : there dwell 
peaceful mountaineers, — herdsmen who also occupy them- 
selves with agriculture, as do the Swiss. Asia has also such 
a people : they are however on the whole a less important 
element. 

(2.) The valley plains. These are plains, permeated by 
rivers, and which owe the whole of their fertility to the 
streams by which they are formed. Such a Valley-Plain is 
China, — India, traversed by the Indus and the Ganges, — 
Babylonia, where the Euphrates and the Tigris flow, — Egypt, 
watered by the Nile. In these regions extensive Kingdoms 
arise, and the foundation of great States begins. For agri- 
culture, which prevails here as the primary principle of 
subsistence for individuals, is assisted by the regularity of 
seasons, which require corresponding agricultural operations ; 
property in land commences, and the consequent legal rela- 
tions; — that is to say, the basis and foundation of the State, 
which becomes possible only in connection with such 
relations. 

(3.) The coast land. A Eiver divides districts of country 
from each other, but still more does the sea ; and we are 
accustomed to regard water as the separating element. 
Especially in recent times has it been insisted upon that States 



S14 TNTRUJ)UCTIOIir. 

must necessarily have been separated by natural features. 
Yet on the contrary, it may be asserted as a fundamental 
principle that nothing unites so much as water, for countries 
are nothing else than districts occupied by streams. Silesia, 
for instance, is the valley of the Oder ; Bohemia and Saxony 
are the valley of the Elbe ; Egypt is the valley of the Nile. 
With the sea this is not less the case, as has been already 
pointed out. Only Mountains separate. Thus the Pyrenees 
decidedly separate Spain from France. The Europeans have 
been in constant connection w^ith America and the East 
Indies ever since they were discovered; but they have 
scarcely penetrated into the interior of Africa and Asia, 
because intercourse by land is much more difficult than by 
water. Only through the fact of being a sea, has the Medi' 
terraneau become a focus of national life. Let us now look 
at the character of the nations that are conditioned by this 
third element. 

The sea gives us the idea of the indefinite, the unlimited, and 
infinite ; and m. feeling his own infinite in that Infinite, man 
is stimulated and emboldened to stretch beyond the limited : 
the sea invites man to conquest, and to piratical plunder, but 
also to honest gain and to commerce. The land, the mere 
Valley-plain attaches him to the soil ; it involves him in an 
iufinite multitude of dependencies, but the sea carries him 
out beyond these limited circles of thought and action. 
Those who navigate the sea, have indeed gain for their ob- 
ject, but the means are in this respect paradoxical, inasmuch 
as they hazard both property and life to attain it. The 
means therefore are the very opposite of that which they 
aim at. This is what exalts their gain and occupation above 
itself, and makes it something brave and noble. Courage is 
necessarily introduced into trade, daring is joined with wis- 
dom. For the daring which encounters the sea must at the 
same time embrace wariness — cunning — since ithas to do with 
the treacherous, the most unreliable and deceitful element. 
This boundless phiin is absolutely yielding, — withstanding 
no pressure, not even a breath of wind. It looks bound- 
lessly innocent, submissive, friendly, and insinuating ; and 
it is exactly this submissiveness which changes the sea into 
the most dangerous and violent element. To this deceitful- 
uess and violence man opposes merely a simple piece of wood ; 



AFEICA. 95 

• 

confides entirely in his courage and presence of mind ; and 
thus passes from a firm ground to an unstable support, 
taking his artificial ground with him. The Ship, — that swan 
of the sea, which cuts the watery plain in agile and arching 
movements or describes circles upon it, — is a machine whose 
invention does the greatest honour to the boldness of man 
as well as to his understanding. This stretching out of the 
sea beyond the limitations of the land, is wanting to the 
splendid political edifices of Asiatic States, although they 
themselves border on the sea, — as for example, China. For 
them the sea is only the limit, the ceasing of the land ; they 
have no positive relation to it. The activity to which the 
sea invites, is a quite peculiar one : thence arises the fact 
that the coast-lands almost always separate themselves from 
the states of the interior although they are connected with 
these by a river. Thus Holland has severed itself from 
Grermauy, Portugal from Spain. 

In accordance with these data we may now consider the 
three portions of the globe with which History is concerned, 
and here the three characteristic principles manifest them- 
selves in a more or less striking manner : Africa has for its 
leading classical feature the Upland, Asia the contrast of 
river regions with the Upland, Europe the mingling of these 
several elements. 

Africa must be divided into three parts : one is that 
which lies south of the desert of Sahara, — Africa proper, — the 
Upland almost entirely unknown to us, with narrow coast- 
tracts along the sea ; the second is that to the north of 
the desert, — European Africa (if we may so call it), - a coast- 
land ; the third is the river region of the Nile, the only 
valley-land of Africa, and which is in connexion with Asia. 

Africa proper, as far as History goes back, has remained — 
for all purposes of connection with the rest of the World — 
shut up ; it is the Grold-land compressed within itself, — the 
land of childhood, which lying beyond the day of self- 
conscious history, is enveloped in the dark mantle of Night. 
Its isolated character originates not merely in its tropical 
nature, but essentially in its geographical condition. The 
triangle which it forms (if we take the West Coast, — which 
in the Grulf of Guinea makes a strongly indented angle, — for 
one side, and in the same way the East Coast to Cape Grar- 



9G JNTEODUCTlOy 

» 

dafu for another) is on two sides so constituted for the 
most part, as to have a very narrow Coast Tract, habitable 
only in a few isolated spots. Next to this towards the interior, 
follows to almost the same extent, a girdle of marsh land 
with the most luxuriant vegetation, the especial home of 
ravenous beasts, snakes of all kinds, — a border tract whose 
atmosphere is poisonous to Europeans. This border con- 
stitutes the base of a cincture of high mountains, which 
are only at distant intervals traversed by streams, and 
where they are so, in such a way as to form no means of 
union with the interior ; for the interruption occurs but 
seldom below the upper part of the mountain ranges, 
and only in individual narrow channels, where are frequently 
found innavigable waterfalls and torrents crossing each other 
in wild confusion. During the three or three and a half cen- 
turies that the Europeans have known this border-land and 
have taken places in it into their possession, they have only 
here and there (and that but for a short time) passed these 
mountains, and have nowhere settled down beyond them. 
The land surrounded by these mountains is an unknown 
Upland, from which on the other hand the Negroes have 
eeldom made their way through. In the sixteenth century 
occurred at many very distant points, outbreaks c^ terrible 
hordes which rushed down upon the more peaceful inhabi- 
tants of the declivities. Whether any internal movement had 
taken place, or if so, of what character, we do not know. "What 
we do know of these hordes, is the contrast between their con- 
duct in their wars and forays themselves, — which exhibited 
the most reckless inhumanity and disgusting barbarism, — and 
the fact that afterwards, when their rage was spent, in the calm 
time of peace, they shewed themselves mild and well disposed 
towards the Europeans, when they became acquainted with 
them. This holds good of the EuUahs and of the Mandingo 
tribes, who inhabit the mountain terraces of the Senegal 
and Gambia. The second portion of Africa is the river 
district of the Nile, — Egypt ; which was adapted to become a 
mighty centre of independent civilization, and therefore is as 
isolated and singular in Africa as Africa itself appears in rela- 
tion to the other parts of the world. The northern part of 
4frica, which may be specially called that of the coast-terri- 
tory, (for Egypt has been frequently driven back on itself, by 



AFRICA. 97 

the Mediterranean) lies on the Mediterranean and the 
Atlantic ; a magnificent territory, on which Carthage once 
lay, — the site of the modern Morocco, Algiers, Tunis, and 
Tripoli. This part was to be — mv^t be attached to 
Europe : the French have lately made a successful efi'ort in 
this direction : like Hither-Asia, it looks Europe-wards. 
Here in their turn have Carthaginians, Eomans and Byzan- 
tines, Mussulmen, Arabians, had their abode, and the 
interests of Eiirope have always striven to get a footing 
in it. 

The peculiarly African character is difficult to comprehend, 
for the very reason that in reference to it, we must quite give 
up the principle which naturally accompanies allour ideas, — 
the category of Universality. In Negro life the characteristic 
point is the fact that consciousness has not yet attained to 
the realization of any substantial objective existence, — as for 
example, God, or Law, — in which the interest of man's voli- 
tion is involved and in which he realizes his own being. This 
distinction between himself as an individual and the univer- 
sality of his essential being, the African in the uniform, unde- 
veloped oneness of his existence has not yet attained ; so that 
the Knowledge of an absolute Being, an Other and a Higher 
than his individual self, is entirely wanting. The Negro, 
as already observed, exhibits the natural man in his com- 
pletely wild and untamed state. We must lay aside all thought 
of reverence and morality — all that we call feeling — if we 
would rightly comprehend him ; there is nothing harmonious 
with humanity to be found in this type of character. The 
copious and circumstantial accounts of Missionaries com- 
pletely confirm this, and Mahommedanism appears to be the 
only thing which in any way brings the Negroes within the 
range of culture. The Mahommedans too understand better 
than the Europeans, how to penetrate into the interior of the 
country. The grade of culture which the Negroes occupy 
may be more nearly appreciated by considering the aspect 
which Religion presents among them. That which forms 
the basis of religious conceptions is the consciousness on the 
part of man of a Higher Power — even though this is con- 
ceived only as a vis naturcB — in relation to which he feels 
himself a weaker, humbler being. Eeligion begins with the 
consciousness that there is something higher than man. 



98 INTEODUCTION. 

But even Herodotus called the Negroes sorcerers : — now in 
Sorcery we have not the idea of a Grod, of a moral faith ; it 
exhibits man as the highest power, regarding him as alone 
occupying a position of command over the power of Nature. 
We have here therefore nothing to do with a spiritual adora- 
tion of Grod, nor with an empire of Eight. Grod thunders, 
but is not on that account recognized as Grod. For the soul 
of man, Grod must be more than a thunderer, whereas among 
the Negroes this is not the case. Although they are necessa- 
rily conscious of dependence upon nature, — for they need the 
beneficial influence of storm, rain, cessation of the rainy 
period, and so on, — yet this does not conduct them to the 
consciousness of a Higher Power : it is they who command 
the elements, and this they call " magic." The Kings have 
a class of ministers through whom they command elemental 
changes, and every place possesses such magiciaus, who 
perform special ceremonies, with all sorts of gesticulations, 
dances, uproar, and shouting, and in the midst of this con- 
fusion commence their incantations. The second element 
in their religion, consists in their giving an outward form to 
this supernatural power— projecting their hidden might into 
the world of phenomena by means of images. What they 
conceive of as the power in question, is therefore nothing 
really objective, having a substantial being and difierent 
from themselves, but the first thing that comes in their way. 
This, taken quite indiscriminately, they exalt to the dignity 
of a " Genius ;" it may be an animal, a tree, a stone, or 
a wooden figure. This is their Fetish — a word to which 
the Portuguese first gave currency, and which is derived from 
feitizo, magic. Here, in the Fetish, a kind of objective in- 
dependence as contrasted with the arbitrary fancy of the 
individual seems to manifest itself ; but as the objectivity is 
nothing other than the fancy of the individual projecting 
itself into space, the human individuality remains master of 
the image it has adopted. If any mischance occurs which 
the Fetish has not averted, if rain is suspended, if there 
is a failure in the crops, they bind and beat or destroy 
the Fetish and so get rid of it, making another immediately, 
and thus holding it in their own power. Such a Fetish has 
no independence as an object of religious worship ; still less 
has it aesthetic independence as a work of art ; it is merely a 



AFEICA. 99 

creation that expresses the arbitrary choice of its malver, and 
which always remains in his hands. In short there is no re- 
lation of dependence in this religion. There is however one 
feature that points to something beyond ; — the Worship of 
the Dead, — in which their deceased forefathers and ancestors 
are regarded by them as a power influencing the living. 
Their idea in the matter is that these ancestors exercise 
vengeance and inflict upon man various iDJuries — exactly in 
the sense in which this was supposed of witches in the Middle 
Ages. Yet the power of the dead is not held superior to 
that of the living, for the Negroes command the dead and 
lay spells upon them. Thus the power in question remains 
substantially always in bondage to the living subject. 
Death itself is looked upon by the Negroes as no universal 
natural law ; even this, they think, proceeds from evil- 
disposed magicians. In this doctrine is certainly involved 
the elevation of man over Nature ; to such a degree that the 
chance volition of man is superior to the merely natural, — 
that he looks upon this as an instrument to which he does 
not pay the compliment of treating it in a way conditioned 
by itself, but which he commands.* 

But from the fact that man is regarded as the Highest, it 
follows that he has no respect for himself; for only with the 
consciousness of a Higher Being does he reach a point of view 
which inspires him with real reverence. For if arbitrary choice 
is the absolute, the only substantial objectivity that is real- 
ized, the mind cannot in such be conscious of any Univer- 
sality. The Negroes indulge, therefore, that perfect contempt 
for humanity, which in its bearing on Justice and Morality is 
the fundamental characteristic of the race. They have more- 
over no knowledge of the immortality of the soul, although 
spectres are supposed to appear. The undervaluing of 
humanity among them reaches an incredible degree of 
intensity. Tyranny is regarded as no wrong, and cannibalism 
is looked upon as quite customary and proper. Among us, 
instinct deters from it, if we can speak of instinct at all as 
appertaining to man. But with the Negro this is not the 
case, and the devouring of human flesh is altogether conso- 
nant with the general principles of the African race ; to the 

* F?<7e Hegel's •' Vorlesungen iiber die Piiilosophie der Jleligion," L 284 
and 289. 2nd Ed. 



100 INTEODUCTION. 

sensual Negro, human flesh is but an object of sense — mere 
flesh. At the death of a King hundreds are killed and eaten ; 
prisoners are butchered and their flesh sold in the markets ; 
the victor is accustomed to eat the heart of his slain foe. 
When magical rites are performed, it frequently happens 
that the sorcerer kills the first that comes in his way and 
divides his body among the bystanders. Another character- 
istic fact in reference to the Negroes is Slavery. Negroes are 
enslaved by Europeans and sold to America. Bad as 
this may be, their lot in their own land is even worse, 
since there a slavery quite as absolute exists ; for it is the 
essential principle of slavery, that man has not yet attained 
a consciousness of his freedom, and consequently sinks down 
to a mere Thing — an object of no value. Among the Negroes 
moral sentiments are quite weak, or more strictly speaking, 
non-existent. Parents sell their children, and conversely 
children their parents, as either has the opportunity. 
Through the pervading influence of slavery all those bonds 
of moral regard which we cherish towards each other disap- 
pear, and it does not occur to the Negro mind to expect 
from others what we are enabled to claim. The polygamy 
of the Negroes has frequently for its object the having many 
children, to be sold,.every one of them, into slavery ; and very 
often naive complaints on this score are heard, as for instance 
in the case of a Negro in London, who lamented that he was 
now quite a poor man because he had already sold all his 
relations. In the contempt of humanity displayed by the 
Negroes, it is not so much a despising of death as a want of 
regard for life that forms the characteristic feature. To this 
want of regard for life must be ascribed the great courage, 
supported by enormous bodily strength, exhibited by the 
Negroes, who allow themselves to be shot down by thou- 
sands in war with Europeans. Life has a value only when 
it has something valuable as its object. 

Turning our attention in the next place to the category of 
political constitution, we shall see that the entire nature of this 
race is such as to preclude the existence of any such arrange- 
ment. The stand-point of humanity at this grade is mere 
sensuous volition with energy of will; since universal spiritual 
laws (for example, that of the morality of the Eamily) cannot 
be recognized here. Universality exists only as arbitrary 



AFRICA. 101 

subjective choice. The political bond can therefore not 
possess such a character as that free laws should unite the com- 
munity. There is absolutely no bond, no restraint upon that 
arbitrary volition. iSTothing but external force can hold the 
State together for a moment. A ruler stands at the head, for 
sensuous barbarism can only be restrained by despotic power. 
But since the subjects are of equally violent temper with their 
master, they keep him on the other hand within limits. 
Under the chief there are many other chiefs with whom 
the former, whom we will call the King, takes counsel, and 
whose consent he must seek to gain, if he wishes to under- 
take a war or impose a tax. In this relation he can exercise 
more or less authority, and by fraud or force can on occasion 
put this or that chieftain out of the way. Besides this the 
Kings have other specified prerogatives. Among the Ash- 
antees the King inherits all the property left by his subjects 
at their death. In other places all unmarried women belong 
to the King, and whoever wishes a wife, must buy her from 
him. If the IS'egroes are discontented with their King they 
depose and kill him. In Dahomey, when they are thus 
displeased, the custom is to send parrots' eggs to the King, 
as a sign of dissatisfaction with his government. Sometimes 
also a deputation is sent, which intimates to him, that the 
burden of government must have been very troublesome to 
him, and that he had better rest a little. The King then 
thanks his subjects, goes into his apartments, and has himself 
strangled by the women. Tradition alleges that in former 
times a state composed of women made itself famous by its 
conquests : it was a state at whose head was a woman. She 
is said to have pounded her own son in a mortar, to have 
besmeared herself with the blood, and to have had the blood 
of pounded children constantly at hand. She is said to 
have driven away or put to death all the males, and com- 
manded the death of all male children. These furies 
destroyed everything in the neighbourhood, and were driven 
to constant plunderings, because they did not cultivate the 
land. Captives in war were taken as husbands : pregnant 
women had to betake themselves outside the encampment ; 
and if they had born a son, put him out of the way. This 
infamous state, the report goes on to say, subsequently dis- 
appeared. Accompanying the King we constantly find iu 



102 TNTKODTJCTION. 

Negro States, the executioner, whose office is regarded as of 
the highest consideration, and by whose hands the King, 
though he makes use of him for putting suspected persons to 
death, may himself suffer death, if the grandees desire it. 
Fanaticism, which, notwithstanding the yielding disposition 
of the Negro i^i other respects, can be excited, surpasses, 
when roused, all belief. An English traveller states that 
when a war is determined on in Ashantee, solemn ceremonies 
precede it : among other things the bones of the King's 
mother are laved with human blood. As a prelude to the war, 
the King ordains an onslaught upon his own metropolis, as 
if to excite the due degree of frenzy. The King sent word 
to the English Hutchinson : " Christian, take care, and 
watch well over your family. The messenger of death has 
drawn his sword and will strike the neck pf many Ashantees ; 
when the drum sounds it is the death signal for multitudes. 
Come to the King, if you can, and fear nothing for yourself." 
The drum beat, and a terrible carnage was begun ; all who 
came in the way of the frenzied Negroes in the streets 
were stabbed. On such occasions the King has all whom he 
suspects killed, and the deed then assumes the character of 
a sacred act. Every idea thrown into the mind of the Negro 
is caught up and realized with the whole energy of his will ; 
but this realization involves a wholesale destruction. These 
people continue long at rest, but suddenly their passions fer- 
ment, and then they are quite besides themselves. The destruc- 
tion which is the consequence of their excitement, is caused 
by the fact that it is no positive idea, no thought which pro- 
duces these commotions ; — a physical rather than a spiritual 
enthusiasm. In Dahomey, when the King dies, the bonds 
of society are loosed ; in his palace begins indiscriminate 
havoc and disorganization. All the wives of the King (in 
Dahomey their number is -exactly 3333) are massacred, and 
through the whole town plunder and carnage ruu riot. The 
wives of the King regard this their death as a necessity ; 
they go richly attired to meet it. The authorities have to 
hasten to proclaim the new governor, simply to put a stop to 
massacre. 

Erom these various traits it is manifest that want of self- 
control distinguishes the character of the Negroes. This 
condition is capable of no development or culture, and as 



AFRICA. 108 

we see them at this daj, such have they always been. The 
only essential connection that has existed and continued be- 
tween the Negroes and the Europeans is that of slavery. In 
this the Negroes see nothing unbecoming them, and the Eng- 
lish who have done most for abolishing the slave-trade and 
slavery, are treated by the Negroes themselves as enemies. 
For itis a point of first importance with the Kings to sell their 
captured enemies, or even their own subjects ; and viewed in 
the light of such facts, we may conclude slavery to have been 
the occasion of the increase of human feeling among the 
Negroes. The doctrine which we deduce from this condition 
of slavery among the N egroes, and which constitutes the only 
side of the question that has an interest for our enquiry, is that 
which we deduce from the Idea : viz. that the " Natural con- 
dition" itself is one of absolute and thorough injustice— con- 
travention of the Right and Just. Every intermediate grade 
between this and the realization of a rational State retains — 
as might be expected — elements and aspects of injustice ; 
therefore we find slavery even in the Grreekand Eoman States, 
as we do serfdom down to the latest times. But thus existing 
in a State, slavery is itself a phase of advance from the merely 
isolated sensual existence, — a phase of education, — a mode 
of becoming participant in a higher morality and the culture 
connected with it. Slavery is in and for itself injustice, for 
the essence of humanity is Freedom ; but for this man must 
be matured. The gradual abolition of slavery is therefore 
wiser and more equitable than its sudden removal. 

At this point we leave Africa, not to mention it again. 
Eor it is no historical part of the World ; it has no move- 
ment or development to exhibit. Historical movements in 
it — that is in its northern part — belong to the Asiatic 
or European World. Carthage displayed there an important 
transitionary phase of civilization ; but, as a Phoenician 
colony, it belongs to Asia. Egypt will be considered in re- 
ference to the passage of the human mind from its Eastern 
to its Western phase, but it does not belong to the African 
Spirit. What we properly understand by Africa, is the 
Unhistorical, Undeveloped Spirit, still involved in the condi- 
tions of mere nature, and which had to be presented here 
only as on the threshold of the World's History. 

Having eliminated this introductory element, we find 



104 



INTRODUCTION. 



ourselves for the first time on the real theatre of History. 
It now only remains for us to give a prefatory sketch of 
the Greographical basis of the Asiatic and European world. 
Asia is, characteristically, the Orient quarter of the globe, — 
the region of origination. It is indeed a Western world for 
America ; but as Europe presents on the whole, the centre 
and end of the old world, and is absolutely the TVest, — so 
Asia is absolutely the ^ast. 

In Asia arose the Light of Spirit, and therefore the his- 
tory of the World. 

We must now consider the various localities of Asia. Its 
physical constitution presents direct antitheses, and the 
essential relation of these antitheses. Its various geogra- 
phical principles are formations in themselves developed and 
perfected. 

First, the northern slope, Siberia, must be eliminated. 
This slope, from the Altai chain^ with its fine streams, that 
pour their waters into the northern Ocean, does not at 
all concern us here ; because the Northern Zone, as already 
stated, lies out of the pale of History. But the remainder 
includes three very interesting localities. The first is, as in 
i\irica, a massive Upland, with a mountain girdle which 
contains the highest summits in the World. This Upland 
is bounded on the South and South East, by the Mus-Tag 
or Imaus, parallel td which, farther south, runs the Himma- 
Inya chain. Towards the East, a mountain chain running 
from South to North, parts off the basin of the Amur. On 
the North lie the Altai and Songarian mountains ; in con- 
nection with the latter, in the North West the Musart and 
in the West the Belur Tag, which by the Hindoo Coosh 
chain are again united with the Mus-Tag. 

This high mountain-girdle is broken through by streams, 
which are dammed up and form great valley plains. These, 
more or less inundated, present centres of excessive luxu- 
riance and fertility, and are distinguished from the European 
river districts in their not forming, as those do, proper valleys 
with valleys branching out from them, but river-plains. Of 
this kind are, — the Chinese Valley Plain, formed by the 
Hoang-Ho and Tang-tse-KiangCthe yellow and blue streams), 
— next that of India, formed by the Granges ; — less important 
IS the Indus, which in the north, gives character to the 



ASIA. 105 

Puiijaub, and in the soutli flows through plains of sand, 
farther on, the lands of the Tigris and Euphrates, which 
rise in Armenia and hold their course along the Persian 
mountains. The Caspian sea has similar river valleys ; in 
the East those formed by the Oxus and Jaxartes (Glihon 
and Sihon) which pour their waters into the Sea of Aral; on 
the West those of the Cyrus and Araxes (Kur and Aras). 
— The Upland and the Plains must be distinguished from 
each other ; the third element is their intermixture, which 
occurs in Hither [Anterior] Asia. To this belongs Arabia, 
the land of the Desert, the upland of plains, the empire of 
fanaticism . To this belong Syria and Asia Minor, con- 
nected with the sea, and having constant intercourse with 
Europe. 

In regard to Asia the remark above offered respecting 
geographical differences is especially true ; viz. that the 
rearing of cattle is the business of the Upland, — agriculture 
and industrial pursuits that of the valley-plains, — while com- 
merce and navigation form the third and last item. Patriarchal 
independence is strictly bound up with the first condition of 
society ; property and the relation of lord and serf with the 
second ; civil freedom with the third. In the Upland, 
where the various kinds of cattle breeding, the rearing of 
horses, camels, and sheep, (not so much of oxen) deserve 
attention, we must also distinguish the calm habitual life 
of nomad tribes from the wild and restless character they 
display in their conquests. These people, without developing 
themselves in a really historical form, are swayed by a power- 
ful impulse leading them to change their aspect as nations ; 
and although they have not attained an historical character, 
the beginning of History may be traced to them. It must 
however be allowed that the peoples of the plains are more 
interesting. In agriculture itself is involved, ipso facto, the 
cessation of a roving life. It demands foresight and solicitude 
for the future : reflection on a general idea is thus awakened ; 
and herein lies the principle of property and productive 
industry. China, India, Babylonia, have risen to the posi- 
tion of cultivated lands of this kind. But as the peoples 
that have occupied these lands, have been shut up within 
themselves, and have not appropriated that element of civi- 
lization which the sea supplies, (or at any rate only at the 



lOG INTEODUCTION. 

commencement of their civilization) and as their navigation 
of it — to whatever extent it may have taken place — remained 
without influence on their culture, — a relation to the rest of 
History could only exist in their case, through their being 
sought out, and their character investigated by others. 
The mountain-girdle of the upland, the upland itself, and 
the river-plains, characterize Asia physically and spiritually • 
but they themselves are not concretely, really, historical ele- 
ments. The opposition between the extremes is simply 
recognized, not harmonized ; a firm settlement in the fertile 
plains is for the mobile, restless, roving, condition of the 
mountain and Upland races, nothing more than a constant 
object of endeavour. Physical features distinct in the sphere 
of nature, assume an essential historical relation. — Anterior 
Asia has both elements in one, and has, consequently, a 
relation to Europe ; for what is most remarkable in it, this 
land has not kept for itself, but sent over to Europe. 
It presents the origination of all rehgious and political 
principles, but Europe has been the scene of their develop- 
ment. 

Europe, to which we now come, has not the physical 
varieties w hich we noticed in Asia and Africa. The European 
character involves the disappearance of the contrast exhibited 
by earlier varieties, or at least a modification of it ; so that 
we have the milder qualities of a transition state. We have 
in Europe no uplands immediately contrasted with plains. 
The three sections of Europe require therefore a difi'erent 
basis of classification. 

The first part is Southern Europe — looking towards the 
Mediterranean. North of the Pyrenees, mountain-chains 
run through France, connected with the Alps that separate 
and cut off Italy from France and Germany. G-reece also 
belongs to this part of Europe. Greece and Italy long pre- 
sented the theatre of the World's History ; and while the 
middle and north of Europe were uncultivated, the World- 
Spirit found its home here. 

The second portion is the heart of Europe, which Caesar 
opened when conquering Gaul. This achievement was one 
of manhood on the part of the Boman General, and 
more productive than that youthful one of Alexander, who 
undertook to exalt the East to a participation in Greek life ; 



EUEOPE. 107 

ana whose work, though in its purport the noblest and fair- 
est for the imagination, soon vanished, as a mere Ideal, in 
the sequel. — In this centre of Europe, France, Grermany, 
and England are the principal countries. 

Lastly, the third part consists of the north-eastern States 
of Europe, — Poland, Eussia, and the Slavonic Kingdoms. 
They come only late into the series of historical States, and 
form and perpetuate the connection with Asia. In contrast 
with the physical peculiarities of the earlier divisions, these 
are, as already noticed, not present in a remarkable degree, 
but counterbalance each other. 



109 



THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. 



CLASSIFICATION OF HISTOEIC DATA. 

In the geographical survey, the course of the World's 
History has been marked out in its general features. The 
Sun — the Light— rises in the East. Light is a simply self- 
involved existence; but though possessing thus in itself 
universality, it exists at the same time as an individuality 
in the Sun. Imagination has often pictured to itself the 
emotions of a blind man suddeuly becoming possessed of 
sight, beholding the bright glimmering of the dawn, the 
grow^ing light, and the flaming glory of the ascending Sun. 
The boundless forgetfulness of his individuality in this pure 
splendour, is his first feeling, — utter astonishment. But 
when the Sun is risen, this astonishment is diminished ; ob- 
jects around are perceived, and from them the individual 
proceeds to the contemplation of his own inner being, and 
thereby the advance is made to the perception of the relation 
between the two. Then inactive contemplation is quitted 
for activity ; by the close of day man has erected a 
building constructed from his own inner Sun ; and when in 
the evening he contemplates this, he esteems it more highly 
than the original external Sun. For now he stands in a 
conscious relation to his Spirit, and therefore a free relation. 
If we hold this image fast in mind, we shall find it sym- 
bolizing the course of History, the great Day's work of 
Spirit. 

The History of the World travels from East to West, for 
Europe is absolutely the end of History, Asia the beginning. 
The History of the World has an East tear k^oxnv ; (the term 



110 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY. 

East in itself is eatirely relative), for altViough the Earth 
forms a sphere, Histor}^ performs no circle round it, but has 
on the contrary a determinate East, viz. Asia. Here rises 
the outward physical Sun, and in the West it sinks down : 
here consentaneously rises the Sun of self-consciousness, 
which diffuses a nobler brilliance. The History of the World 
is the discipline of the uncontrolled natural vdll, bringing it 
into obedience to a Universal principle and conferring subjec- 
tive freedom .J, The East knew and to the present day knows 
only that One is Eree ; the G-reek and Roman world, that some 
are free ; the Grerman World knows that All are free. The 
first political form therefore which we observe in History, is 
Despotisnij the second Democracy and Aristocracy^ the third 
Monarchy. 

To understand this division we must remark that as the 
State is the universal spiritual life, to which individuals by 
birth sustain a relation of confidence and habit, and in which 
they have their existence and reality, — the first question is, 
whether their actual life is an unreflecting use and habit 
combining them in this unity, or whether its constituent 
individuals are reflective and personal beings having a pro- 
perly subjective and independent existence. In view of this, 
substantial [objective] freedom must be distinguished from 
subjective freedom. Substantial freedom is the abstract un- 
developed Reason implicit in volition, proceeding to develop 
itself in the State. But in this phase of Reason there is 
still wanting personal insight and will, that is, subjective 
freedom ; which is realized only in the Individual, and which 
constitutes the reflection of the Individual in his own con- 
science.* Where there is merely substantial freedom, com- 
mands and laws are regarded as something fixed and abstract, 

* The essence of Spirit is self-determination or " Freedom." Where 
Spirit has attained mature growth, as in the man who acknowledg'es the 
•rtbsolute validity of the dictates of Conscience, the Individual is '* a law 
to himself," and this Freedom is " realized." But in lower stages of mo- 
lality and civilization, he U7I conscious'/ 1/ projects this legislative principle 
jnto some *' g'overning power " (one or several), and obeys it as if it were 
an alien, extraneous force, not the voice of that Spirit of which he himself 
(though at this stage imperfectly) is an embodiment. The Philosophy of 
History exhibits the successive stages by which he reaches the conscious- 
ness, that it is ?ns owuhimost hehtg that thus governs him — i.e. a conscious- 
ness of self' 'determination or *' Freedom." —Ta. 



CLASSIFICATION OF HISTORIC DATA. Ill 

to which the subject holds himself in absolute servitude. 
These laws need not concur with thedesireof the individual, 
and the subjects are consequently like childreu,who obey their 
parents without will or insight of their own. But as subjecti\'e' 
freedom arises, and man descends from the contemplation 
of external reality into his own soul, the contrast suggested 
by reflection arises, involving tlie Negation of Eeality, The 
drawing back from the actual world forms ipso facto an 
antithesis, of which one side is the absolute Being— the 
Divine - the other the human subject as an individual. In 
that immediate, unreflected consciousness which charac- 
terizes the East, these two are not yet distinguished. The 
substantial world is distinct from the individual, but the 
antithesis has not yet created a schism between [absolute 
and subjective] Spirit. 

The first phase — that with which we have to begin — is the 
IJast. Unreflected consciousness, — substantial, objective, 
spiritual existence, — forms the basis ; to which the subjec- 
tive will first sustains a relation in the form of faith, confi' 
dence, obedience. In the political life of the East we find a 
realized rational freedom, developing itself without advanc- 
ing to subjective freedom. It is the childhood of History, 
Substantial forms constitute the gorgeous edifices of Oriental 
Umpires, in which we find all rational ordinances and ar- 
rangements, but in such a way, that individuals remain as 
mere accidents. These revolve round a centre, round the 
sovereign, who, as patriarch, — not as despot in the sense of 
the Boman Imperial Constitution, — stands at the head. Eor 
he has to enforce the moral and substantial : he has to up- 
hold those essential ordinances which are already established ; 
so that what among us belongs entirely to subjective freedom, 
here proceeds from the entire and general body of the State. 
The glory of Oriental conception is the One Individual as 
that substantial being to which all belongs, so that no other 
individual has a separate existence, or mirrors himself in his 
subjective freedom. All the riches of imagination and JSTature 
are appropriated to that dominant existence in which sub- 
jective freedom is essentially merged ; the latter looks for its 
dignity not in itself, but in that absolute object. All the ele- 
ments of a complete State— even subjectivity — may be found 
there, but not yet harmonized with the grand substantia] 



112 THE PHILOSOPHT OF UISTOET. 

being. For outside the One Power — before which nothing 
can maintain an independent existence— there is only revolt- 
ing caprice, which, beyond the limits of the central power, 
roves at will without purpose or result. Accordingly we 
find the wild hordes breaking out from the Upland, — falling 
upon the countries in question, and laying them waste, or 
settling down in them, and giving up their wild life ; but 
in all cases resultlessly lost in the central substance. 
This phase of Substantiality, since it has not taken up its 
antithesis into itself and overcome it, directly divides itself 
into two elements. On the one side we see duration, sta- 
bility, — Empires belonging to mere space, as it were, [as 
distinguished from Time] — unhistorical History; — as for 
example, in China, the State based on the Family relation ; 
— a paternal Government, which holds together the consti- 
tution by its provident care, its admonitions, retributive or 
rather disciplinary inflictions ; — a prosaic Empire, because the 
contrast of Substance — Eorm, Infinity, Ideality — has not yet 
asserted itself. On the other side, the Form of Time stands 
contrasted with this spatial stability. The States in ques- 
tion, without undergoing any change in themselves, or in the 
principle of their existence, are constantly changing their 
position towards each other. They are in ceaseless conflict, 
which brings on rapid destruction. The opposing principle 
of individuality enters into these conflicting relations ; but ^ 
it is itself as yet only unconscious, merely natural TJniver- / 
sality, — Light, which is not yet the light of the personal soul/^ 
This History, too, (^. e. of the struggles before-mentioned) 
is, for the most part, really unTiistorical, for it is only the re- 
petition of the same majestic ruin. The new element, which 
in the shape of bravery, prowess, magnanimity, occupies the 
place of the previous despotic pomp, goes through the 
same circle of decline and subsidence. This subsidence is 
therefore not really such, for through all this restless change 
no advance is made. History passes at this point — and only 
outwardly, i. e. without connection with the previous phase — 
to Central Asia. Continuing the comparison with the ages of 
the individual man, this would be the boyhood of History, no 
longer manifesting the repose and trustingness of the child, 
bat boisterous and turbulent./ The Greek World may then 
be compared with the period of adolescence, for here we have 



CLASSIFICATION OF HTSTORIO DATA. 113 

individualities forming themselves. This is the second main 
principle in human History. Morality is, as in Asia, a 
principle ; but it is morality impressed on individuality, and 
consequently denoting the free volition of Individuals. Here, 
then, is the Union of the Moral with the subjective "Will, or 
the Kingdom of Beautiful Freedom, for the Idea is united 
with a plastic form. It is not yet regarded abstractedly, but 
immediately bound up with the Real, as in a beautiful work 
of Art; the Sensuous bears the stamp and expression of the 
Spiritual. This Kingdom is consequently true Harmony ; 
the world of the most charming, but perishable or quickly 
passing bloom : it is the natural, unreflecting observance of 
what is hecoming, — not yet true Morality. The individual will 
of the Subject adopts unreflectingly the conduct and habit 
prescribed by Justice and the Laws. The Individual is 
therefore in unconscious unity with the Idea — the social 
weal. That which in the East is divided into two extremes — 
the substantial as such, and the individuality absorbed in 
it — meets here. But these distinct principles are only 
immediately in unity, and consequently involve the highest 
degree of contradiction ; for this aesthetic Morality has not 
yet passed through the struggle of subjective freedom, in its 
second birth, its palingenesis ; it is not yet purified to the 
standard of the free subjectivity that is the essence of true 
morality. 

The third phase is the realm of abstract Universality (in 
which the Social aim absorbs all individual aims) : it is the 
Moman State, the severe labours of the Manhood of History. 
For true m.anbood acts neither in accordance with the 
caprice of a despot, nor in obedience to a graceful caprice of 
its own ; but works for a general aim, one in which the indi- 
vidual perishes and realizes his own private object only in 
that general aim. The State begins to have an abstract 
existence, and to develope itself for a definite object, in 
accomplishing which its members have indeed a share, but 
not a complete and concrete one [calling their whole being 
into play]. Eree individuals are sacrificed to the severe 
demands of the National objects, to which they must sur- 
render themselves in this service of abstract generalization. 
The E-oman State is not a repetition of such a State of Indi- 
viduals as the Athenian Polis was. The geniality and joy of 

I 



114 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORT. 

soul that existed there have given place to harsh and rigorous 
toil. The interest of History is detached from individuals, 
but these gain for themselves abstract, formal Universality. 
The Universal subjugates the individuals ; they have to merge 
their own interests in it ; but in return the abstraction 
which they themselves embody — that is to say, their per- 
sonalitv— is recognized: in their individual capacity they 
become persons with definite rights as such. In the same 
sense as individuals may be said to be incorporated in the 
abstract idea of Person, National Individualities (those of the 
Koman Provinces) have also to experience this fate : in this 
form of Universality their concrete forms are crushed, and 
incorporated with it as a homogeneous and indifierent mass. 
Eome becomes a Pantheon of all deities, and of all Spiritual 
existence, but these divinities and this Spirit do not retain 
their proper vitality. — The development of the State in ques- 
tion proceeds in two directions. On the one hand, as based 
on reflection — abstract Universality— it has the express out- 
spoken antithesis in itself : it therefore essentially involves 
in itself the struggle which that antithesis supposes ; with 
the necessary issue, that individual caprice — the purely con- 
tingent and thoroughly worldly power of one despot — gets the 
better of that abstract universal principle. At the very out- 
set we have the antithesis betw-een the Aim of the State as 
the abstract universal principle on the one hand, and the 
abstract personality of the individual on the other hand. 
But w-hen subsequently, in the historical development, indi- 
viduality gains the ascendant, and the breaking up of the 
community into its component aioms can only be restrained 
bv external compulsion, then the subjective might of indivi- 
dual despotism comes forward to play its part, as if summoned 
to fulfil this task. For the mere abstract comphance with 
Law^ implies on the part of the subject of law the supposition 
that he has not attained to self-organization and self-control ; 
and this principle of obedience, instead of being hearty and 
volimtary, has for its motive and ruling power only the 
arbitrary and contingent disposition of the individual ; so 
that the latter is led to seek consolation for the loss of his 
freedom in exercising and developing his private right. This 
is the purely worldly harmonization of the antithesis. But 
in the next place, the pain inflicted by Despotism begins to 



CHEISTIANITT AND THE GEEMAN WORLD. 115 

be felt, and Spirit driven back into its utmost depths, leaves 
the godless world, seeks for a harmony in itself, and begins 
now an inner life, — a complete concrete subjectivity, which 
possesses at the same time a substantiality that is not 
grounded in mere external existence. "Within the soul 
therefore arises the Spiritual pacification of the struggle, in 
the fact that the individual personality, instead of following 
its own capricious choice, is pui'ified, and elevated into uni- 
versality ; — a subjectivity that of its own free will adopts 
principles tending to the good of all, — reaches, in fact, a 
divine personality. To that worldly empire, this Spiritual 
one wears a predominant aspect of opposition, as the empire 
of a subjectivity that has attained to the knowledge of 
itself, — itself in its essential nature, — the Empire of Spirit 
in its full sense. 

The German world appears at this point of development, — 
the fourth phase of World-History. This would answer in 
the comparison with the periods of human life to its Old Age. 
The Old Age of Nature is weakness ; but that of Spirit is 
its perfect maturity and strength, in which it returns to 
unity with itself, but in its fully developed character as 
;^m^.— This fourth phase begins witb the Eeconciliation 
presented in Christianity ; but only in the germ, without 
national or political development. We must therefore regard 
it as commencing rather with the enormous contrast between 
the spiritual, religious principle, and the barbarian Real 
World. For Spirit as the consciousness of an inner World is, 
at the commencement, itself still in an abstract form. All 
that is secular is consequently given over to rudeness and 
capricious violence. The Mohammedan principle — the en- 
lightenment of the Oriental World — is the first to contra- 
vene this barbarism and caprice. We find it developing 
itself later and more rapidly than Christianity ; for the latter 
needed eight centuries to grow up into a political form. But 
that principle of the Grerman World which we are now dis- 
cussing, attained concrete reality only in the history of the 
Grerman Nations. The contrast of the Spiritual principle 
anim.ating the Ecclesiastical State, with the rough and wild 
barbarism of the Secular State, is here likewise present. 
The Secular ought to be in harmony with the Spiritual prin- 
ciple, but we find nothing more than the recognition of that 

I 2 



116 THE PHILOSOPHY OF HISTOET. 

obligation. The Secular power forsaken by the Spirit, must 
in the first instance vanish in presence of the Ecclesiastical 
[as representative of Spirit] ; but while this latter degrades 
itself to mere secularity, it loses its influence with the loss 
of its proper character and vocation. From this corruption 
of the Ecclesiastical element — that is, of the Church — results 
the higher form of rational thought. Spirit once more 
driven back upon itself, produces its work in an intellectual 
shape, and becomes capable of realizing the Ideal of Eeason 
from the Secular principle alone. Thus it happens, that in 
virtue of elements of Universality, which have the principle 
of Spirit as their basis, the empire of Thought is establislied 
actually and concretely. The antithesis of Church and State 
vanishes. The Spiritual becoQies reconnected with the Secu- 
lar, and develops this latter as an independently organic 
existence. The State no longer occupies a position of real 
inferiority to the Church, and is no longer subordinate to it. 
The latter asserts no prerogative, and the Spiritual is no 
longer an element foreign to the State. Ereedom has found 
the means of realizing its Ideal, — its true existence. This is 
the ultimate result which the proceeds of History is intended 
to accomplish, and we have to traverse in detail the long 
track which has been thus cursorily traced out. Yet length 
of Time is something entirely relative, and the element of 
Spirit is Eternity. Duration, properly speaking, cannot be 
said to belong to it. 



PAET I. 

THE ORIENTAL AVORLD. 



We have to begin with the Oriental World, but not before 
tlie period in which we discover States in it. The diffusion of 
Language and the formation of races lie beyond the limits of 
History. History is prose, and myths fall short of History. 
The consciousness of external definite existence only arises 
in connection with the power to form abstract distinctions and 
assign abstract predicates ; and in proportion as a capacity 
for expressing Laws [of natural or social life] is acquired, in 



PA.KT I. THE OBIENTAL WORLD. 117 

the same proportion does the ability manifest itself, to com- 
prehend objects in an unpoetical form. While the ante-his- 
torical is that which precedes political life, it also lies beyond 
self-cognizant life; though surmises and suppositions may 
be entertained respecting that period, these do not amount to 
facts. The Oriental World has as its inherent and distinc- 
tive principle the Substantial, [the Prescriptive,] in Morality. 
We have the first example of a subjugation of the mere 
arbitrary will, which is merged in this substantiality. Moral 
distinctions and requirements are expressed as Laws, but so 
that the subjective will is governed by these Laws as by an 
external force. Nothing subjective in the shape of disposi- 
tion, Conscience, formal Ereedora, is recognized. Justice is 
administered only on the basis of external morality, and 
Grpvernment exists only as the prerogative of compulsion. 
Our civil law contains indeed some purely compulsory ordi- 
nances. I can be compelled to give up another man's 
property, or to keep an agreement which I have made ; but 
the Moral is not placed by us in the mere compulsion, but 
in the disposition of the subjects — their sympathy with the 
requirements of law. Morality is in the East likewise a 
subject of positive legislation, and although the moral pre- 
scriptions (the substance of their Ethics) may be perfect, what 
should be internal subjective sentiment is made a matter of 
external arrangement. There is no want of a will to command 
moral actions, but of a will to perform them because com- 
manded from within. Since Spirit has not yet attained sub- 
jectivity, it wears the appearance of spirituality still involved 
in the conditions of Nature. Since the external and the in- 
ternal, Law and Moral Sense, are not yet distinguished — still 
form an undivided unity — so also do Eeligion and the State. 
The Constitution generally is a Theocracy, and the Kingdom 
of Grod is to the same extent also a sec alar Kingdom as the 
secular Kingdom is also divine. What we call Grod has not 
yet in the East been realized in consciousness, for our idea of 
God involves an elevation of the soul to the supersensual. 
While we obey, because what we are required to do is con- 
firmed by an internal sanction, there the Law is regarded as 
inherently and absolutely valid without a sense of the want 
of this subjective confirmation. In the law men recognize 
not their own will, but one entirely foreign. 



118 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WOELD. 

Of the several parts of Asia we have already eliminated 
as unhistorical, Upper Asia (so far and so long as its JSTo- 
mad population do not appear on the scene of history), and 
Siberia. The rest of the Asiatic World is divided into four 
districts : first, the E-iver-Plains, formed by the Yellow and 
Blue Stream, and the Upland of farther Asia, — China and 
the Mongols. Secondly, the valley of the Ganges and that of 
the Indus. The third theatre of History comprises the river- 
plains of the Oxus and Jaxartes, the Upland of Persia, and 
the other valley-plains of the Euphrates and Tigris, to 
which Hither Asia attaches itself. Fourthly, the Eiver- 
plain of the Nile. 

"With China and the Mongols — the realm of tlieocratic des- 
potism — History begins. Both have the patriarchal constitu- 
tion for their principle, — so modified in China, as to admit 
the development of an organized system of secular polity ; 
while among the Mongols it limits itself to the simple form 
of a spiritual, religious sovereignty. In China the Monarch 
is Chief as Patriarch. The laws of the state are partly civil 
ordinances, partly moral requirements ; so that the internal 
law, — the knowledge on the part of the individual of the na- 
ture of his volition, as his own inmost self,— even this is 
tlie subject of external statutory enactment. The sphere of 
subjectivity does not then, attain to maturity here, since moral 
laws are treated as legislative enactments, and law on its 
part has an ethical aspect. All that we call subjectivity is 
concentrated in the supreme head of the State, who, in all 
his legislation has an eye to the health, wealth, and benefit 
of the whole. Contrasted with this secular Empire is the 
spiritual sovereignty of the Mongols, at the head of which 
stands the Lama, who is honoured as God. In this Spiritual 
Empire no secular political life can be developed. 

In the second phase — the Indian realm — we see the 
unity of political organization, — a perfect civil machinery, 
such as exists in China, — in the first instance, broken up. 
The several powers of society appear as dissevered and free 
in relation to each other. The difierent castes are indeed, 
fixed ; but in view of the religious doctrine that established 
them, they wear the aspect of natural distinctions. Indivi- 
duals are thereby still further stripped of proper personality, 
— although it might appear as if they derived gain from the 



PART I. THE ORIENTAL V/ORLD. 119 

development of the distinctions in question. For though we 
find the organization of the State no longer, as in China, deter- 
mined and arranged by the one all-absorbing personality [the 
head of the State] the distinctions that exist are attributed 
to Nature, and so become differences of Caste. The unity in 
which these divisions must finally meet, is a religious one ; 
and thus arises Theocratic Aristocracy and its despotism. 
Here begins, therefore, the distinction between the spiritual 
consciousness and secular conditions ; but as the sepa- 
ration implied in the above mentioned distinctions is the 
cardinal consideration, so also we find in the religion the 
principle of the isolation of the constituent elements of the 
Idea ; — a principle which posits the harshest antithesis — 
the conception of the purely abstract unity of Grod, and of 
the purely sensual Powers of Nature. The connection of 
the two is only a constant change, — a restless hurrying from 
one extreme to the other, — a wild chaos of fruitless varia- 
tion, which must appear as madness to a duly regulated, 
intelligent consciousness. 

The third important form, — presenting a contrast to 
the immoveable unity of China and to the wild and tur- 
bulent unrest of India, — is the Persian Sealm. China is 
quite peculiarly Oriental ; India we might compare with 
Grreece ; Persia on the other hand with Eome. In Persia 
namely, the Theocratic power appears as a Monarchy. Now 
Monarchy is that kind of constitution which does indeed 
unite the members of the body politic in the head of the 
government as in a point ; but regards that head neither as 
the absolute director nor the arbitrary ruler, but as a power 
whose will is regulated by the same principle of law as the 
obedience of the subject. "We have thus a general principle, 
a Law, lying at the basis of the whole, but which, still re- 
garded as a dictum of mere Nature [not as free and absolute 
Truth] is clogged by an antithesis, [that of formal freedom 
on the part of man as commanded to obey positive alien 
requirements.] The representation, therefore, which Spirit 
makes of itself is, at this grade of progress, of a purely 
natural kind, — Light. This Universal principle is as much 
a regulative one for the monarch as for each of his subjects, 
and the Persian Spirit is accordingly clear, illuminated, — the 



120 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

idea of a people living in pure morality, as in a sacred com- 
munity. But this has on the one hand as a merely natural 
Ecclesia, the above antithesis still unreconciled ; and its 
sanctity displays the characteristics of a compulsory, external 
one. On the other hand this antithesis is exhibited in Persia 
in its being the Empire of hostile peoples, and the union of the 
most widely differing nations. The Persian Unity is not that 
abstract one of the Chinese Empire ; it is adapted to rule over 
many and various nationalities, which it unites under the 
mild power of Universality as a beneficial Sun shining over 
all, — waking them into life and cherishing their growth. 
This Universal principle, — occupying the position of a 
root only, — allows the several members a free growth for 
unrestrained expansion and ramification. In the organi- 
zation of these several peoples, the various principles and 
forms of life have full play and continue to exist together. 
"We find in this multitude of nations, roving Nomades ; then 
we see in Babylonia and Syria commerce and industrial 
pursuits in full vigour, the wildest sensuality, the most 
uncontrolled turbulence. The coasts mediate a connec- 
tion with foreign lands. In the midst of this confusion 
the spiritual God of the Jews arrests our attention, — like 
Brahm, existing only for Thought, yet jealous and excluding 
from his being and abolishing all distinct speciality of 
manifestations [avatars], such as are freely allowed in other 
religions. This Persian Empire, then, — since it can tolerate 
these several principles, exhibits the Antithesis in a lively 
active form, and is not shut up within itself, abstract and 
calm, as are China and India, — makes a real transition in 
the History of the World. 

If Persia forms the external transition to Greek life, the 
internal, mental transition is mediated by Egypt, Here the 
antitheses in their abstract form are broken through ; a break- 
ing through which effects their nullification. This undeveloped 
reconciliation exhibits the struggle of the most contradictory 
principles, which are not yet capable of harmonizing them- 
selves, but, setting up the birth of this harmony as the pro- 
blem to be solved, make themselves a riddle for themselves 
and for others, the solution of which is only to be found in 
the Greek World. 



SECT. I. CHINA. 121 

If we compare these kingdoms in the light of their various 
fates, we find the empire of the two Chinese rivers the only 
durable kingdom in the World. Conquests cannot aifect 
such an empire. The world of the Granges and the Indus 
has also been preserved. A state of things so destitute of 
[distinct] thought is likewise imperishable, but it is in its 
very nature destined to be mixed witli other races, — to be 
conquered and subjugated. While these two realms have 
remained to the present day, of the empires of the Tigris 
and Euphrates on the contrary nothing remains, except, at 
most, a heap of bricks ; for the Persian Kingdom, as that of 
Transition, is by nature perishable, and the Kingdoms of the 
Caspian Sea are given up to the ancient struggle of Iran and 
Turan. The Empire of the solitary Nile is only present he- 
neath the ground, in its speechless Dead, ever and anon 
stolen away to all quarters of the globe, and in their ma- 
jestic habitations ; — for what remains above ground is 
nothing else but such splendid tombs. 



SECTION I. 

CHINA. 



With the Empire of China History has to begin, for it is 

the oldest, as far as history gives us any information ; and 
its principle lias such substantiality, that for the empire in 
question it is at once the oldest and the newest. Early do 
we see China advancing to the condition in which it is found 
at this day ; for as the contrast between objective existence 
and subjective freedom of movement in it, is still wanting, 
every change is excluded, and the fixedness of a character 
which recurs perpetually, takes the place of what we should 
call the truly historical, China and India lie, as it were, still 
outside the World's History, as the mere presupposition of 
elements whose combination must be waited for to consti- 
tute their vital progress. The unity of substantiality and 
subjective freedom so entirely excludes the distinction and 
contrast of the two elements, that by this very fact, substance 
cannot arrive at reflection on itself — at subjectivity. The 
Substantial [Positive] in its moral aspect, rules therefore, 



122 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

not as tlie moral disposition of the Subject, but as the 
despotism of the Sovereign, 

No People has a so strictly continuous series of Writers 
of History as the Chinese. Other Asiatic peoples also have 
ancient traditions, but no History. The Vedas of the 
Indians are not such. The traditions of the Arabs are very 
old, but are not attached to a political constitution and its 
development. But such a constitution exists in China, and 
that in a distinct and prominent form. The Chinese tradi- 
tions ascend to 3000 years before Christ ; and the Sim-King, 
their canonical document, beginning with the government 
of Tao, places this 2357 years before Christ. It may here 
be incidentally remarked, that the other Asiatic kingdoms 
also reach a high antiquity. According to the calculation 
of an English writer, the Egyptian history {e.g.) reaches to 
2207 years before Christ, the Assyrian to 2221, the Indian 
to 2204. Thus the traditions respecting the principal king- 
doms of the East reach to about 2800 years before the birth 
of Christ. Comparing this with the history of the Old 
Testament, a space of 2400 years, according to the common 
acceptation, intervened between the Noachian Deluge and 
the Christian era. But Johannes von Miiller has adduced 
weighty objections to this number. He places the 
Deluge in the year 3473 before Christ, — thus about 1000 
years earlier, — supporting his view by the Septuagint. I 
remark this only with the view of obviating a difficulty that 
may appear to arise when we meet with dates of a higher 
age than 2400 years before Christ, and yet find nothing about 
the Flood. — The Chinese have certain ancient canonical 
documents, from which their history, constitution, and reli- 
gion can be gathered. The Vedas and the Mosaic records 
are similar books ; as also the Homeric poems. Among the 
Chinese these books are called Kings, and constitute the 
foundation of all their studies. The Shu-King contains their 
history, treats of the government of the ancient kings, and 
gives the statutes enacted by this or that monarch. The 
Y-King consists of figures, which have been regarded as the 
bases of the Chinese written character, and this book is also 
considered the groundwork of the Chinese Meditation. Eor 
it begins with the abstractions of Unity and Duality, and 
then treats of the . concrete existences pertaining to these 



SECT. I. CHINA. 123 

abstract forms of thought. Lastly, the Shi-King is the book 
of the oldest poems in a great variety of styles. The 
high officers of the kingdom were anciently commissioned to 
bring with them to the annual festival all the poems com- 
posed in their province within the year. The Emperor in 
full court was the judge of these poems, and those recog- 
nized as good received public approbation. Besides these 
three books of archives which are specially honoured and 
studied, there are besides two others, less important, viz. 
the Li'Ki (or Li-King) which records the customs and 
ceremonial observances pertaining to the Imperial dignity, 
and that of the State functionaries (with an appendix, Yo- 
King, treating of music) ; and the Tshun-tsin, the chronicle 
of the kingdom Lu, where Confucius appeared. These books 
are the groundwork of the history, the manners and the laws 
of China. 

This empire early attracted the attention of Europeans, 
although only vague stories about it had reached them. It 
was always marvelled at as a country which, self-originated, 
appeared to have no connection with the outer world. 

In the 13th century a Venetian (Marco Polo) explored it 
for the first time, but his reports were deemed fabulous. In 
later times, every thing that he had said respecting its extent 
and greatness was entirely confirmed. By the lowest cal- 
culation, China has 150 millions of inhabitants ; another 
makes the number 200, and the highest raises it even to 300 
millions. From the far north it stretches towards the south 
to India ; on the east it is bounded by the vast Pacific, 
and on the west it extends towards Persia and the Cas- 
pian . China Proper is over-populated. On both rivers, the 
Hoang-ho and the Taug-tse-Kiang, dwell many millions of 
human beings, living on rafts adapted to all the requirements 
of their mode of life. The population and the thoroughly 
organized State-arrangements, descending even to the mi- 
nutest details, have astonished Europeans ; and a matter of 
especial astonishment is the accuracy with which their his- 
torical works are executed. Eor in China the Historians 
are some of the highest functionaries. Two ministers con- 
stantly in attendance on the Emperor, are commissioned to 
keep a journal of everything the Emperor does, commands, 
and says, and their notes are then worked up and made use 



124 PART T. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

of by the Historians. We cannot go further into the 
minutiae of their annals, which, as they themselves exhibit 
no development, would only hinder us in ours. Their His- 
tory ascends to very ancient times, in which Fohi is named 
as the DiflPuser of culture, he having been the original civi- 
lizer of China. He is said to have lived in the 29th century 
before Christ, — before the time, therefore, at which the Shu- 
King begins ; but the mythical and pre-historical is treated 
by Chinese Historians as perfectly historical. The first 
region of Chinese history is the north-western corner, — 
China Proper, — towards that point where the Hoaug-ho des- 
cends from the mountains ; for only at a later period did the 
Chinese empire extend itself towards the south, to the Tang- 
tse-Kiang. The narrative begins with the period in which 
men lived in a wild state, i.e. in the woods, when they fed on 
the fruits of the earth, and clothed themselves with the skins 
of wild beasts. There was no recognition of definite laws 
among them. To Fohi (who must be duly distinguished 
from Fo, the founder of a new religion) is ascribed the 
instruction of men in building themselves huts and making 
dwellings. He is said to have directed their attention to the 
change and return of seasons, to barter and trade ; to have 
established marriage ; to have taught that Eeason came from 
Heaven, and to have given instructions for rearing silk- 
worms, building bridges, and making use of beasts of burden. 
The Chinese historians are very diftuse on the subject of these 
various origins. The progress of the history is the exten- 
sion of the culture thus originated, to the south, and the 
beginning of a state and a government. The great Empire 
which had thus gradually been formed, was soon broken up 
into many provinces, which carried on long wars with each 
other, and were then re-united into a "Whole. The dynasties 
in China have often been changed, and the one now domi- 
nant is generally marked as the 22nd. In connection with 
the rise and fall of these dynasties arose the difterent capital 
cities that are found in this empire. For a long time Nankin 
was the capital ; now it is Pekin ; at an earlier period other 
cities. China has been compelled to wage many wars with 
the Tartars, who penetrated far into the country. The long 
wall built by Shi-hoang-ti, — and which has always been 
regarded as a most astounding achievement, — was raised as a 



SECT I. CHINA. 125 

barrier against tlie inroads of the northern Noniades. This 
prince divided the whole empire into 36 provinces, and made 
himself especially remarkable by his attacks on the old lite- 
rature, especially on the historical books and historical 
studies generally. He did this with the design of strength- 
ening his own dynasty, by destroying the remembrance of 
the earlier one. After the historical books had been col- 
lected and burned, many hundreds of the literati fled to the 
inountains, in order to save what remained. Every one that 
fell into the Emperor's hands experienced the same fate as 
the books. This Book-burning is a very important circum- 
stance, for in spite of it the strictly canonical books were 
saved, as is generally the case. The first connection of China 
with the West occurred about 64 a.d. At that epoch a 
Chinese emperor dispatched ambassadors (it is said) to visit 
the wise sages of the West. Twenty years later a Chinese 
general is reported to have penetrated as far as Judea. At 
the beginning of the 8th century, a.d., the first Christians 
are reputed to have gone to China, of which visit later visi- 
tors assert that they found traces and monuments. A Tartar 
kingdom, Lyau-Tong, existing in the north of China, is said 
to have been reduced and taken possession of by the Chinese 
with the help of the Western Tartars, about 1100 a.d. This, 
nevertheless, gave these very Tartars an opportunity of 
securing a footing in China. Similarly they admitted the 
Mantchoos with whom they engaged in war in the 16th and 
17th centuries, which resulted in the present dynasty's 
obtaining possession of the throne. Yet this new dynasty 
has not eff'ected farther change in the country, any more 
than did the earlier conquest of the Mongols in the year 
1281. The Mantchoos that live in China have to conform 
to Chinese laws, and study Chinese sciences. 

We pass now from these few dates in Chinese history to 
the contemplation of the Spirit of the constitution, which 
has always remained the same. We can deduce it from the 
general principle, which is, the immediate unity of the sub- 
stantial Spirit and the Individual ; but this is equivalent to 
the Spirit of the Eamily, which is here extended over the 
most populous of countries. The element of Subjectivity, — 
that is to say, the reflection upon itself of the individual 
will in antithesis to the Substantial (as the power in which 



126 PAET I. THE OEfENTAL WOELD, 

it is absorbed) or the recognition of this power as one with 
its own essential being, in which it knows itself free, — is 
not found on this grade of development. The universal 
"Will displays its activity immediately through that of the in- 
dividual : the latter has no self-cognizance at all in antithesis 
to Substantial, positive being, which it does not yet regard 
as a power standing over against it, — as, {e.g.) in Judaism, the 
" Jealous Grod" is known as the negation of the Individual. 
In China the Universal Will immediately commands what 
the Individual is to do, and the latter complies and obeys 
with proportionate renunciation of reflection and personal 
independence. If he does not obey, if he thus virtually sepa- 
rates himself from the Substance of his being, inasmuch 
as this separation is not mediated by a retreat within a per- 
sonality of his own, the punishment he undergoes does not 
afl'ect his subjective and internal, but simply his outward 
existence. The element of subjectivity is therefore as much 
wanting to this political totality as the latter is on its side 
altogether destitute of a foundation in the moral disposition 
of the subject. For the Substance is simply an individual, 
—the Emperor, — whose law constitutes all the disposition. 
Nevertheless, this ignoring of inclination does not imply 
caprice, which would itself indicate inclination — that is, sub- 
jectivity and mobility. Here we have the One Being of the 
State supremely dominant, — the Substance, which, still hard 
and inflexible, resembles nothing but itself — includes no 
other element. 

This relation, then, expressed more definitely and more 
conformably with its conception, is that of the Family. On 
this form of moral union alone rests the Chinese State, and 
it is objective Family Piety that characterizes it. The 
Chinese regard themselves as belonging to their family, and 
at the same time as children of the State. In the Family 
itself they are not personalities, for the consolidated unity 
in which they exist as members of it is consanguinity and 
natural obligation. In the State they have as little inde- 
pendent personality ; for there the patriarchal relation is 
predominant, and the government is based on the paternal 
management of the Emperor, who keeps all departments of 
the State in order. Five duties are stated in the Shu-King 
as involving grave and unchangeable fundamental relations. 



SECT. I. CHINA. 127 

1. The mutual one of the Emperor and people. 2. Of the 
Fathers and Children. 3. Of an elder and younger brother. 
4. Of Husband and Wife. 5, Of Friend and Friend. It may 
be here incidentally remarked, that the number Five is 
regarded as fundamental among the Chinese, and presents 
itself as often as the number Three among us. They have five 
Elements of Nature — Air, Water, Earth, Metal, and Wood. 
They recognize ybwf" quarters of Heaven and a centre. Holy 
places, where altars are erected, consist of four elevations, 
and one in the centre. 

The duties of the Family are absolutely binding, and 
established and regulated by law. The son may not accost 
the father, when he comes into the room ; he must seem to 
contract himself to nothing at the side of the door, and may 
not leave the room without his father's permission. When 
the father dies, the son must mourn for three years — 
abstaining from meat and wine. The business in which he 
was engaged, even that of the State, must be suspended, for 
he is obliged to quit it. Even the Emperor, who has just 
commenced his government, does not devote himself to his 
duties during this time. No marriage may be contracted in 
the family within the period of mourning. Only the having 
reached his fiftieth year exempts the bereaved from the ex- 
cessive strictness of the regulations, which are then relaxed 
that he may not be reduced in person by them. The sixtieth 
year relaxes them still further, and the seventieth limits 
mourning to the colour of the dress. A mother is honoured 
equally with a father. When Lord Macartney saw the Em- 
peror, the latter was sixty-eight years old, (sixty years is 
among the Chinese a fundamental round number, as one 
hundred is among us), notwithstanding which he visited his 
mother every morning on foot, to demonstrate his respect 
for her. The New Tear's congratulations are offered even to 
the mother of the Emperor ; and the Emperor himself cannot 
receive the homage of the grandees of the court until he has 
paid his to his mother. The latter is the first and constant 
counsellor of her son, and all announcements concerning his 
family are made in her name. — The merits of a son are 
ascribed not to him, but to his father. When on one occa- 
sion the prime minister asked the Emperor to confer titles 
of honour on his father, the Emperor issued an edict in 



128 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

wliicli it was said : '* Famine was desolating the Empire : 
Thy father gave rice to the starving. "What beneficence ! 
The Empire was on the edge of ruin : Thy father defended 
it at the hazard of his life. What fidelity ! The government 
of the kingdom was entrusted to thy father: he made 
excellent laws, maintained peace and concord with the 
neighbouring princes, and asserted the rights of my crown. 
What wisdom ! The title therefore which I award to him- 
is : Beneficent, Faithful and Wise." — The Son had done all 
that is here ascribed to the Father. In this way ancestors— a 
fashion the reverse of our' s — obtain titles of honour through 
their posterity. But in return, every Father of a Family is 
responsible for the transgressions of his descendants ; duties 
ascend, but none can be properly said to descend. 

It is a great object with the Chinese, to have children 
who may give them the due honours of burial, pay respect 
to their memory after death, and decorate their grave. 
Although a Chinese may have many wives, one only is the 
mistress of the house, and the children of the subordinate 
wives have to honour her absolutely as a mother. If a Chinese 
husband has no children by any of liis wives, he may pro- 
ceed to adoption with a view to this posthumous honour. 
For it is an indispensable requirement that the grave 
of parents be annually visited. Here lamentations are 
annually renewed, and many, to give full vent to their grief, 
remain there sometimes one or two months. The body of a 
deceased father is often kept three or four months in the 
house, and during this time no one may sit down on a chair 
or sleep in a bed. Every family in China has a Hall of 
Ancestors where all the members annually assemble ; there 
are placed representations of those who have filled exalted 
posts, while the names of those men and women who have been 
of less importance in the family are inscribed on tablets ; the 
whole family then partake of a meal together, and the poor 
members are entertained by the more w^ealthy. It is said 
that a Mandarin who had become a Christian, having ceased 
to honour his ancestors in this way, exposed himself to 
great persecutions on the part of his relatives. The same 
minuteness of regulation which prevails in the relation 
between father and children, characterizes also that be- 
tween the elder brother and the younger ones. The 



SECT. I. CHINA. 129 

former ha3, tliough in a less degree than parents, claims to 
reverence. 

This family basis is also the basis of the Constitution, if 
we can speak of such. Tor although the Emperor has the 
right of a Monarch, standing at the summit of a political 
edifice, he exercises it paternally. He is the Patriarch, and 
everything in the State that can make any claim to reverence 
is attached to him. For the Emperor is chief both in reli- 
gious affairs and in science, — a subject which will be treated 
of in detail further on. — This paternal care on the part of the 
Emperor, and the spirit of his subjects, —who like children 
do not advance beyond the ethical principle of the family 
circle, and can gain for themselves no independent and civil 
freedom, — makes the whole an empire, administration, and 
social code, which is at the same time moral and thoroughly 
prosaic, — that is, a product of the Understanding without 
free Beason and Imagination. 

The Emperor claims the deepest reverence. In virtue of 
his position he is obliged personally to manage the govern- 
ment, and must himself be acquainted with and direct the 
legislative business of the Empire, although the Tribunals 
give their assistance. Notwithstanding this, there is little 
room for the exercise of his individual will ; for the whole 
government is conducted on the basis of certain ancient 
maxims of the Empire, while his constant oversight is not 
the less necessary. The imperial princes are therefore edu- 
cated on the strictest plan. Their physical frames are 
hardened by discipline, and the sciences are their occupation 
from their earliest years. Their education is conducted 
under the Emperor's superintendence, and they are early 
taught that the Emperor is the head of the State and there- 
fore must appear as the first and best in everything. An 
examination of the princes takes place every year, and a 
circumstantial report of the afi'air is published through the 
whole Empire, which feels the deepest interest in these 
matters. China has therefore succeeded in getting the great- 
est and best governors, to whom the expression " Solomonian 
Wisdom" might be applied; and the present Mantchoo 
dynasty has especially distinguished itself by abilities of 
mind and body. All the ideals of princes and of princely 
education which have been so numerous and varied since the 



130 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

appearance of Fenelon's *'Telemaque" are realized here. 
In Europe there can be no Solomons. But here is the place 
and tlie necessity for such government ; since the rectitude, 
the prosperity, the security of all, depend on the one impulse 
given to the first link in the entire chain of this hierarchy. 
The deportment of the Emperor is represented to us as in 
the highest degree simple, natural, noble and intelligent. 
Free from a proud taciturnity or repelling hauteur in speech 
or manners, he lives in the consciousness of his own dignity 
and in the exercise of imperial duties to whose observance 
he has been disciplined from his earliest youth. Besides 
the imperial dignity there is properly no elevated rank, no 
nobility among the Chinese ; only the princes of the imperial 
house, and the sons of the ministers enjoy any precedence 
of the kind, and they rather by their position than by their 
birth. Otherwise all are equal, and only those have a share 
in the administration of a^airs who have ability for it. Offi- 
cial stations are therefore occupied by men of the greatest 
intellect and education. The Chinese State has conse- 
quently been often set up as an Ideal which may serve even 
us for a model. 

The next thing to be considered is the administration of 
the Empire. We cannot speak, in reference to China, of a 
Constitution; for this would iii.plythat individuals and cor- 
porations have independent rights — partly in respect of their 
particular interests, partly in respect of the entire State. 
This element must be wanting here, and we can only speak 
of an administration of the Empire. In China, we have the 
reality of absolute equality, and all the differences that exist 
are possible only in connection with that administration, 
and in virtue of the worth which a person may acquire, 
enabling him to fill a high post in the Grovernment. 
Since equality prevails in China, but without any freedom, 
despotism is necessarily the mode of government. Among 
us, men are equal only before the law% and in the respect 
paid to the property of each ; but they have also many inte- 
rests and peculiar privileges, which must be guaranteed, if 
we are to have what we call freedom. But iu the Chinese 
Empire these special interests enjoy no consideration on their 
own account, and the government proceeds from the Empe- 
ror alone, who sets it in movenent as a hierarchy of officials 



SECT. T. CHINA. 131 

or Mandarins. Of these, there are two kinds — learned and 
military Mandarins — the latter corresponding to our Officers. 
The Learned Mandarins constitute the higher rank, for, in 
China, civilians take precedence of the military. Govern- 
ment officials are educated at the schools ; elementary schools 
are instituted for obtaining elementary knowledge. Insti- 
tutions for higher cultivation, such as our Universities, may, 
perhaps, be said not to exist. Those who wish to attain 
high official posts must undergo several examinations, — usu- 
ally three in number. To the third and last examination — at 
which the Emperor himself is present — only those can be 
admitted who have passed the first and second with credit ; 
and the reward for having succeeded in this, is the imme- 
diate introduction into the highest Council of the Empire. 
The sciences, an acquaintance with which is especially re- 
quired, are the History of the Empire, Jurisprudence, and 
the science of customs and usages, and of the organization 
and administration of government. Besides this, the Man- 
darins are said to have a talent for poetry of the most refined 
order. "We have the means of judging of this, particularly 
from the Eomance, Ju-kiao-li, or, " The Two Cousins," trans- 
lated by Abel B/cmusat : in this, a youth is introduced who 
having finished his studies, is endeavouring to attain high dig- 
nities. The officers of the army, also, must have some mental 
acquirements ; they too are examined ; but civil functionaries 
enjoy, as stated above, far greater respect. At the great 
festivals the Emperor appears with a retinue of two thousand 
Doctors, i.e. Mandarins in Civil Offices, and the same num- 
ber of military Mandarins. (In the whole Chinese State, 
there are about 15,000 civil, and 20,000 military Mandarins.) 
The Mandarins who have not yet obtained an office, never- 
theless belong to tlie Court, and are obliged to appear at 
the great festivals in the Spring and Autumn, when the 
Emperor himself guides the plough. These functionaries 
are divided into eight classes. The first are those that at- 
tend the Emperor, then follow the viceroys, and so on. The 
Emperor governs by means of administrative bodies, for the 
most part composed of Mandarins. The Council of tha 
Empire is the highest body of the kind : it consists of the 
most learned and talented men. Erom these are chosen the 
presidents of the other colleges. The greatest publicity 



132 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

prevails in the business of government. The subordinate 
ofBciais report to the Council of the Empire, and the latter 
lay the matter before the Emperor, whose decision is made 
known in the Court Journal. The Emperor often accuses 
himself of faults ; and should his princes have been unsuc- 
cessful in their examination, he blames them severely. In 
every Ministry, and in various parts of the Empire, there is 
a Censor {Ko-tao), who has to give the Emperor an account 
of everything. These Censors enjoy a permanent office, 
and are very much feared. They exercise a strict surveil- 
lance over everything that concfrns the government, and the 
public and private conduct of the Mandarins, and make their 
report immediately to the Emperor. They have also the 
right of remonstrating with and blaming Am. The Chinese 
History gives many examples of the noble-mindedness and 
courage of these Ko-taos. For example : A Censor had 
remonstrated with a tyrannical sovereign, but had been se- 
verely repulsed. Nevertheless, he was not turned away 
from his purpose, but betook himself once more to the 
Emperor to renew his remonstrances. Eoreseeing his death, 
he had the coffin brought in with him, in which he was to be 
buried. It is related of the Censors, that, — cruelly lacerated 
by the torturers and unable to utter a sound, — they have 
even written their animadversions with their own blood in the 
sand. These Censors themselves form yet another Tribunal 
which has the oversight of the whole Empire. The Manda- 
rins are responsible also for performing duties arising from 
unforeseen exigencies in the Slate. If famine, disease, 
conspiracy, religious disturbances occur, they have to report 
the facts; not, however, to wait for further orders i'rom 
government, but immediately to act as the case requires. 
The whole of the administration is thus covered by a net- 
work of officials. Functionaries are appointed to superin- 
tend the roads, the rivers, and the coasts. Everything is 
arranged with the greatest minuteness. In particular, great 
attention is paid to the rivers ; in the Shu-King are to be 
found many edicts of the Emperor, designed to secure the 
land from inundations. The gates of every town are guarded 
by a watch, and the streets are barred all night. Govern- 
ment officers are always answerable to the higher Council. 
Every Mandarin is also' bound to make known the faults he 



SECT. I. oniNA. 133 

Las committed, every five years ; and the trustworthiness of 
his statement is attested by a Board of Control — the Cen- 
sorship. In the case of any grave crime not confessed, the 
Mandarins and their families are punished most severely. 
From all this it is clear that the Emperor is the centre, around 
which everything turns ; consequently the well-being of 
the country and people depends on him. The whole hierarchy 
of the administration works more or less according to a set- 
tled routine, which in a peaceful condition of things becomes 
a convenient habit. Uniform and regular, like the course 
of nature, it goes its own way, at one time as at another 
time ; but the Emperor is required to be the moving, ever 
wakeful, spontaneously active Soul. If then the per- 
sonal character of the Emperor is not of the order described, 
— namely, thoroughly moral, laborious, and while maintaining 
dignity, full of energy, — every thing is relaxed, and the 
government is paralyzed from head to foot, and given over 
to carelessness and caprice. Eor there is no other legal 
power or institution extant, but this superintendence and 
oversight of the Emperor. It is not th.eir own conscience, 
their own honour, which keeps the ofBcers of government 
up to their duty, but an external mandate and the severe 
sanctions by which it is supported. In the instance of the 
revolution that occurred in the middle of the seventeenth 
century, the last Emperor of the dynasty was very amiable 
and honourable ; but through the mildness of his character, 
the reins of government were relaxed, and disturbances 
naturally ensued. The rebels called the Mantchoos into the 
country. The Emperor killed himself to avoid falling into 
the hands of his enemies, and with his blood wrote on the 
border of his daughter's robe a few words, in which he com- 
plained bitterly of the injustice of his subjects. A Man- 
darin, who was with him, buried him, and then killed himself 
on his grave. The Empress and her attendants followed the 
example. The last prince of the imperial house, who was 
besieged in a distant province, fell into the hands of the 
enemy and was put to death. All the other attendant 
Mandarins died a voluntary death. 

Passing from the administration to the Jurisprudence of 
China, we find the subjects regarded as in a state of nonage, 
in virtue of the principle of patriarchal government. No 



134 PART I. THE OETENTAL WORLD. 

independent classes or orders, as in India, have interests of 
their own to defend. All is directed and superintended 
from above. All legal relations are definitely settled by 
rules; free sentiment — the moral stand-point generally — is 
thereby thoroughly obliterated.* It is formally determined 
by the laws in what way the members of the family should be 
disposed towards each other, and the transgression of these 
laws entails in some cases severe punishment. The second 
point to be noticed here, is the legal externality of the 
Family relations, which becomes almost slavery. Every one 
has the power of selling himself and his children ; every 
Chinese buys his wife. Only the chief wife is a free woman. 
The concubines are slaves, and — like the children and every 
other chattel — may be seized upon in case of confiscation. 

A third point is, that punishments are generally corporal 
chastisements. Among us, this would be an insult to 
honour ; not so in China, where the feeling of honour 
has not yet developed itself. A dose of cudgelling is the 
most easily forgotten ; yet it is the severest punishment 
for a man of honour, who desires not to be esteemed physi- 
cally assailable, but who is vulnerable in directions implying 
a more refined sensibility. But the Chinese do not recognize 
a subjectivity in honour ; they are the subjects rather of 
corrective than retributive punishment — as are children 
among us ; for corrective punishment aims at improvement, 
that which is retributive implies veritable imputation of guilt. 
In the corrective^ the deterring principle is only the fear of 
punishment, not any consciousness of wrong ; for here we 
cannot presume upon any reflection upon the nature of the 
action itself. Among the Chinese all crimes — those com- 
mitted against the laws of the Family relation, as well as 
against the State — are punished externally. Sons who fail in 
paying due honour to their Father or Mother, .younger 

* It is evident that the term " mental stand-point" is used here in the 
strict sense in which Hegel has defined it, in his " Philosophy of Law," 
as that of the self-determination of subjectivity, free conviction of the 
Good. The reader, therefore, should not misunderstand the use that con- 
tinues to be made of the terms, morality, moral government, &c in 
reference to the Chinese ; as they denote morality only in the loose 
and ordinary meaning of the word,— precepts or commands given with a 
view to producing good behaviour, — without bringing into relief tho 
element of internal conviction. — Ed. 



SECT. I. CHIN a. 135 

brothers who are not sufficiently respectful to elder ones, are 
bastinadoed. If a son complains of injustice done to him by 
his father, or a younger brother by an elder, he receives a 
hundred blows with a bamboo, and is banished for three 
years, if lie is in the right ; if not, he is strangled. If a 
son should raise his hand against his father, he is condemned 
to have his flesh torn from his body with red-hot pincers. 
The relation between husband and wife is, like all other 
family relations, very highly esteemed, and unfaithfulness, — 
which, however, on account of the seclusion in which the 
women are kept, can very seldom present itself, -r-meets 
vsdth severe animadversion. Similar penalties await the 
exhibition on the part of a Chinese of greater affection to 
one of his inferior wives than to the matron who heads his 
establishment, should the latter complain of such disparage- 
ment. In China, every Mandarin is authorized to inflict 
blows with the bamboo ; even the highest and most 
illustrious,— Ministers, Viceroys, and even the favourites of 
the Emperor himself, — are punished in this fashion. The 
friendship of the Emperor is not withdrawn on account of 
such chastisement, and they themselves appear not sensibly 
touched by it. "When, on one occasion, the last English 
embassy to China was conducted home from the palace by 
the princes and their retinue, the Master of the Ceremonies, 
in order to make room, without any ceremony cleared the 
way among the princes and nobles with a whip. 

As regards responsibility, the distinction between malice 
prepense and blameless or accidental commission of an act 
is not regarded ; for accident among the Chinese is as much 
charged with blame, as intention. Death is the penalty of ac- 
cidental homicide. This ignoring of the distinction between 
accident and intention occasions most of the disputes between 
the English and the Chinese ; for should the former' be at- 
tacked by the latter, — should a ship of war, believing itself at- 
tacked, defend itself, and a Chinese be killed as the conse- 
quence, — the Chinese are accustomed to require that the 
Englishman who fired the fatal shot should lose his life. Every 
one who is in anyway connectedwith the transgressor, shares, 
— especially in the case of crimes against the Emperor, — the 
ruin of the actual offender : all his near kinsmen are tortured 
to death. The printers of an objectionable book and those 



136 PABT T. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

who read it, are similarly exposed to the vengeance of the law. 
The direction which this state of things gives to private re- 
venge is singular. It may be said of the Chinese that they 
are extremely sensitive to injuries and of a vindictive nature. 
To satisfy his revenge the offended person does not venture to 
kill his opponent, because the whole family of the assassin 
would be put to death ; he therefore inflicts an injury on 
himself, to ruin his adversary. In many towns it has been 
deemed necessary to contract the openings of wells, to put a 
stop to suicides by drowning. For when any one has 
committed suicide, the laws ordain that tlie strictest investi- 
gation shall be made into the cause. All the enemies of the 
suicide are arrested and put to the torture, and if the person 
who has committed the insult which led to the act, can be 
discovered, he and his whole family are executed. In case of 
insult therefore, a Chinese prefers killing himself rather than 
his opponent ; since in either case he must die, but in the 
former contingency will have the due honours of burial, and 
may cherish the hope that his family will acquire the pro- 
perty of his adversary. Such is the fearful state of things 
in regard to responsibility and non-responsibility ; all sub- 
jective freedom and moral concernment with an action is 
ignored. In the Mosaic Laws, where the distinction between 
dolus, culpa, and casus, is also not yet clearly recognized, 
there is nevertheless an asylum opened for the innocent homi- 
cide, to which he may betake himself — There is in China 
no distinction in the penal code between higher and lower 
classes, A field-marshal of the Empire, who had very much 
distinguished himself, was traduced on some account, to 
the Emperor ; and the punishment for the alleged crime, was 
that he should be a spy upon those who did not fulfil their 
duty in clearing away the snow from the streets. — Among 
the legal relations of the Chinese we have also to notice 
changes in the rights of possession and the introduction 
of slavery, which is connected there with it. The soil of 
China, in which the chief possessions of the Chinese consist, 
was regarded only at a late epoch as essentially the property 
of the State. At that time the Ninth of all monies from 
estates was allotted by law to the Emperor. At a still later 
epoch seridom was established, and its enactment has been 
ascribed to the Emperor Shi-hoang-ti, who in the year 213 



SECT. I. CHINA. 137 

13 . c, built the G-reat Wall ; who had all the writings that 
recorded the ancient rights of the Chinese, burned ; and who 
brought many independent principalities of China under his 
dominion. His wars caused the conquered lands to become 
private property, and the dwellers on these lands, serfs. In 
China, however, the distinction between Slavery and freedom 
is necessarily, not great, since all are equal before the Em- 
peror — that is, all are alike degraded. As no honour exists, 
and no one has an individual right in respect of others, the 
consciousness of debasement predominates, and this easily 
passes into that of utter abandonment. "With this aban- 
donment is connected the great immorality of the Chinese. 
They are notorious for deceiving wherever they can. Friend 
deceives friend, and no one resents the attempt at deception 
on the part of another, if the deceit has not succeeded 
in its object, or comes to the knowledge of the person sought 
to be defrauded. Their frauds are most astutely and craft- 
ily performed, so that Europeans have to be painfully cautious 
in dealing with them. Their consciousness of moral aban- 
donment shews itself also in the fact that the religion of Eo 
is so widely diffused ; a religion which regards as the Highest 
and Absolute — as God— pure Notliing ; wliich sets up con- 
tempt for individuality, for personal existence, as the 
highest perfection. 

We come, then, to the consideration of the religious side 
of the Chinese Polity. In the patriarchal condition the 
religious exaltation of man has merely a human reference, — 
simple morality and right-doing. The Absolute itself, is 
regarded partly as the abstract, simple rule of this right- 
doing — eternal rectitude; partly as the power whichis its sanc- 
tion. Except in these simple aspects, all the relations of the 
natural world, the postulates of subjectivity — of heart and 
soul — are entirely ignoi-ed. The Chinese in their patriarchajL 
despotism need no such connection or mediation with the 
Highest Being ; for education, the laws of morality and 
courtesy, and the commands and government of the Emperor 
embody all such connection and mediation as far as they feel 
the need of it. The Emperor, as he is the Supreme Head of 
the State, is also the Chief of its religion. Consequently, 
religion is in China essentially State-E/cHgion. The distinc- 
tion between it and Lamaism must be observed, since tJtn 



138 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

latter is not developed to a State, but contains religion as a 
free, spiritual, disinterested consciousness. That Chinese 
religion therefore, cannot be what we call religion. For 
to us religion means the retirement of the Spirit within 
itself, in contemplating its essential nature, its inmost Being. 
In these spheres, then, man is withdrawn from his relation 
to the State, and betaking himself to this retirement, is able 
to release himself from the power of secular government. But 
in China religion has not risen to this grade, for true faith 
is possible only where individuals can seclude themselves, 
■ — can exist for themselves independently of any external 
compulsory power. In China the individual has no such life ; 
— does not enjoy this independence : in any direction he 
is therefore dependent ; in religion as well as in other things ; 
that is, dependent on objects of nature, of which the most 
exalted is the material heaven. On this depend harvest, the 
seasonsof the year, the abundance and sterility of crops. The 
Emperor, as crown of all, —the embodiment of power, — alone 
approaches heaven ; individuals, as such, enjoy no such pri- 
vilege. He it is, who presents the offerings at the four 
feasts ; gives thanks at the head of his court, for the harvest, 
and invokes blessings on the sowing of the seed. This 
"heaven" might be taken in the sense of our term " God," 
as the Lord of Nature ; (we say, for example, " Heaven pro- 
tect us ! ") ; but such a relation is beyond the scope of 
Chinese thought, for here the one isolated self-consciousness 
is substantial being, the Emperor himself, the Supreme 
Power. Heaven has therefore no higher meaning than Na- 
ture. The Jesuits indeed, yielded to Chinese notions so far 
as to call the Christian Grod, " Heaven" — " Tien ;" but they 
were on that account accused to the Pope by other Christian 
Orders. The Pope consequently sent a Cardinal to China, 
who died there. A bishop who was subsequently dispatched, 
enacted that instead of "Heaven," the term "Lord of 
Heaven" should be adopted. The relation to Tien is sup- 
posed to be such, that the good conduct of individuals and 
of the Emperor brings blessing ; their transgressions on the 
other hand cause want and evil of all kinds. The Chinese 
religion involves that primitive element of magical influence 
over nature, inasmuch as human conduct absolutely deter- 
mines the course of events. If the Emperor behaves well, 



SECT. T. CHINA. 139 

prosperity cannot but ensue ; Heaven must ordain prosperity. 
A second side of this religion is, that as the general aspect 
of the relation to Heaven is bound up with the person of 
the Emperor, he has also its more special bearings in his 
hands ; viz. the particular well-being of individuals and 
provinces. These have each an appropriate Genius (Chen), 
which is subject to the Emperor, who pays adoration only 
to the general Power of Heaven, while the several Spirits 
of the natural world follow his laws. He is thus made 
the proper legislator for Heaven as well as for earth. To 
these G-enii, each of which enjoys a worship peculiar to 
itself, certain sculptured forms are assigned. These are dis- 
gusting idols, which have not yet attained the dignity of art, 
because nothing spiritual is represented in them. They are 
therefore only terrific, frightful and negative ; they keep 
watch, — as among the Greeks do the lliver-Goas, the 
Nymphs, and Dryads, — over single elements and natural 
objects. Each of the five Elements has its genius, distin- 
guished by a particular colour. The sovereignty of the 
dynasty that occupies the throne of China also depends on 
a Genius, and this one has a yellow colour. Not less does 
every province and town, every mountain and river possess 
an appropriate Genius. All these Spirits are subordinate to 
the Emperor, and in the Annual Directory of the Empire are 
registered the functionaries and genii to whom such or such 
a brook, river, &c., has been entrusted. If a mischance 
occurs in any part, the Genius is deposed as a Mandarin 
would be. The G-enii have innumerable temples (in Pekin 
nearly 10,000) to which a multitude of priests and convents 
are attached. These " Bonzes " live unmarried, and in all 
cases of distress are applied to by the Chinese for counsel. 
In other respects, however, neither they nor the temples are 
much venerated. Lord Macartney's Embassy was even quar- 
tered in a temple, — such buildings being used as inns. The 
Emperor has sometimes thought fit to secularise many 
thousands of these convents; to compel the Bonzes to 
return to civil life ; and to impose taxes on the estates 
appertaining to the foundations. The Bonzes are sooth- 
sayers and exorcists: for the Chinese are given up to 
boundless superstitions. This arises from the want of 
subjective independence, and pre-supposes the very opposite 



140 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

of freedom of Spirit. In every undertaking,— e.y. if the site 
of a house, or of a grave, &c., is to be determined,- -the advice 
of the Soothsaj^ers is asked. In the T-King certain lines 
are given, which supply fundamental forms and categories, — 
on account of which this book is called the " Book of Fates." 
A certain meaning is ascribed to the combination of such 
lines, and prophetic announcements are deduced from this 
groundwork. Or a number ot little sticks are tlirown into 
the air, and the fate in question is prognosticated from the 
way in which they fall. What we regard as chance, as na- 
tural connection, the Chinese seek to deduce or attain by 
magical arts ; and in this particular also, their want of 
spiritual religion is manifested. 

With this deficiency of genuine subjectivity is connected 
moreover, the form which Chinese Science assumes. In 
mentioning Chinese sciences we encounter a considerable 
clamour about their perfection and antiquity. Approaching 
the subject more closely, we see that the sciences enjoy very 
great respect, and that they are even publicly extolled and 
promoted by the Grovernment. The Emperor himself stands 
at the apex of literature. A college exists whose special 
business it is to edit the decrees of the Emperor, with a 
view to their being composed in the best style ; and this 
redaction assumes the character of an important affair of 
State. The Mandarins in their notifications have to study 
the same perfection of style, for the form is expected to 
correspond with the excellence of the matter. One of the 
highest Governmental Boards is the Academy of Sciences. 
The Emperor himself examines its members ; they live in the 
palace, and perform the functions of Secretaries, Historians of 
the Empire, Natural Philosophers, and Greographers. Should 
a new law be proposed, the Academy must report upon it. 
By way of introduction to such report it must give the 
history of existing enactments ; or if the law in question 
affects foreign countries, a description of them is required. 
The Emperor himself writes the prefaces to the works thus 
composed. Among recent Emperors Kien-long especially 
distinguished himself by his scientific acquirements. He 
himself wrote much, but became far more remarkable 
by publishing the principal works that China had pro- 
duced. At the head of the commission appointed to correct 



SECT. I. CHINA. 141 

the press, was a Prince of the Empire ; and after the work 
had passed through the hands of all, it came once more back 
to the Emperor, who severely punished every error that had 
been committed. 

Though in one aspect the sciences appear thus preeminently 
honoured and fostered, there is wanting to them on the 
other side that free ground of subjectivity, and that properly 
scientific interest, which makes them a truly theoretical oc- 
cupation of the mind. A free, ideal, spiritual kingdom has 
here no place. What may be called scientific is of a merely 
empirical nature, and is made absolutely subservient to the 
Useful on behalf of the State — its requirements and those 
of individuals. The nature of their Written Language is at 
the outset a great hindrance to the development of the 
sciences. Eather, conversely, because a true scientific in- 
terest does not exist, the Chinese haA^e acquired no better 
instrument for representing and imparting thought. They 
have, as is well known, beside a Spoken Language, a 
Written Language ; which does not express, as our does, in- 
dividual sounds — does not present the spoken words to the eye, 
but represents the ideas themselves by signs. This appears 
at first sight a great advantage, and has gained the suflfrages 
of many great men,— among others, of Leibnitz. In reality 
it is anything but such. For if we consider in the first place, 
the effect of such a mode of writing on the Spoken Language, 
we shall find this among the Chinese very imperfect, on 
account of that separation. Eor our Spoken Language is 
matured to distinctness chiefly through the necessity of 
finding signs for each single sound, which latter, by reading, 
we learn to express distinctly. The Chinese, to whom such 
a means of orthoepic development is wanting, do not mature 
the modifications of sounds in their langaage to distinct ar- 
ticulations capable of being represented by letters and syl- 
lables. Their Spoken Language consists of an inconsiderable 
number of monosyllabic words, which are used with more 
than one signification. The sole methods of denoting dis- 
tinctions of meaning are the connection, the accent, and the 
pronunciation, — quicker or slower, softer or louder. The ears 
of the Chinese have become very sensible to such distinctions. 
Thus I find that the word Fo has eleven different meanings 
according to the tone: denoting "glass" — "to boil" — 



142 PAET I. THE OEIEKTAL WOELli. 

" to winnow wheat"— "to cleave asunder" — "to water" — 
*' to prepare" — " an old woman "—"a slave" — " a liberal 
man" — **a wise person" — " a little."— As to their Written 
Language, I will specify only the obstacles which it presents 
to the advance of the sciences. Our Written Language is 
very simple for a learner, as we analyse our Spoken Lan- 
guage into about twenty-five articulations, by which ana- 
lysis, speech is rendered definite, the multitude of possible 
sounds is limited, and obscure intermediate sounds are 
banished : we have to learn only these signs and their 
combinations. Instead of twenty-five signs of this sort, the 
Chinese have many thousands to learn. The number neces- 
sary for use is reckoned at 9353, or even 10,516, if we add 
those recently introduced ; and the number of characters 
generally, for ideas and their combinations as they are 
presented in books, amounts to from 80 to 90,000. As 
to the sciences themselves, ^i^^ory among the Chinese com- 
prehends the bare and definite facts, without any opinion or 
reasoning upon them. In the same way their Jurisprudence 
gives only fixed laws, and their Ethics only determinate 
duties, without raising the question of a subjective founda- 
tion for them. The Chinese have, however, in addition to 
other sciences, a Philosophy, whose elementary principles 
are of great antiquity, since the Y-King — the Book of Fates 
— treats of Origination and Destruction. In this book are 
found the purely abstract ideas of Unity and Duality ; the 
Philosophy of the Chinese appears therefore to proceed from 
the same fundamental ideas as tliat of Pythagoras.* The 
fundamental principle recognised is Reason — Tao ; that es- 
sence lying at the basis of the whole, which effects everything. 
To become acquainted with its forms is regarded among the 
Chinese also as the highest science ; yet this has no connec- 
tion with the educational pursuits which more nearly concern 
the State. The works of Lao-tse, and especially his work 
" Tao-te-King," are celebrated. Confucius visited this philo- 
sopher in the sixth century before Christ, to testify his re- 
verence for him Although every Chinaman is at liberty to 
study these philosophical works, a particular sect, calling 
itself Tao-tse, " Honourers of E^eason," makes this study 

* V^de Hegel's " Vorlesungen iiber die Geschichte der Philosophie," 
vol. i p. 138, &c. 



SECT. I. CHINA. 143 

its special business. Those who compose it are isolated 
from civil life ; and there is much that is' enthusiastic and 
mystic intermingled with their views. They believe, for 
instance, that he who is acquainted with Eeason, possesses 
an instrument of universal power, which may be regarded as 
all-powerful, and which communicates a supernatural might ; 
80 that the possessor is enabled by it to exalt himself to 
Heaven, and is not subject to death (much the same as the 
universal Elixir of Life once talked of among us.) With the 
works of Confucius we have become more intimately ac- 
quainted. To him, China owes the publication of the 
Kings, and many original works on Morality besides, which 
form the basis of the customs and conduct of the Chinese. 
In the principal work of Confucius, which has been trans- 
lated into English, are found correct moral apophthegms ; 
but there is a circumlocution, a reflex character, and cir- 
cuitousness in the thought, which prevents it from rising 
above mediocrity. As to the other sciences, they are not 
regarded as such, but rather as branches of knowledge for 
the behoof of practical ends. The Chinese are far behind 
in Mathematics, Physics, and Astronomy, notwithstanding 
their quondam reputation in regard to them. They knew 
many things at a time when Europeans had not discovered 
them, but they have not understood how to apply their 
knowledge : as e. g, the Magnet, and the Art of Printing. 
But they have made no advance in the application of these 
discoveries. In the latter, for instance, they continue to 
engrave the letters in wooden blocks and then print them 
off: they know nothing of moveable types. Grunpowder, 
too, they pretended to have invented before the Europeans ; 
but the Jesuits were obliged to found their first cannon. 
As to Mathematics, they understand well enough how to 
reckon, but the higher aspect of the science is unknown. 
The Chinese also have long passed as great astronomers. 
Laplace has investigated their acquisitions in this department, 
and discovered that they possess some ancient accounts and 
notices of Lunar and Solar Eclipses ; but these certainly do 
not constitute a science. The notices in question are, more- 
over, so indefinite, that they cannot properly be put in the 
category of knowledge. In the Shu- King, e. g. we have 
two eclipses of the sun mentioned in a space of 1500 years. 



144 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

The best evidence of the state of Astronomy auiong tbo 
Chinese, is the fact that for many hundred years the Chinese 
calendars have been made by Europeans. In earlier times, 
when Chinese astronomers continued to compose the calendar, 
false announcements of lunar and solar eclipses often oc- 
curred, entailing the execution of the authors. The teles- 
copes which the Chinese have received as presents from the 
Europeans, are set up for ornament ; but they have not an 
idea how to make further use of them. Medicine, too, ia 
studied by the Chinese, but only empirically ; and the 
grossest superstition is conuected with its practice. The 
Chinese have as a general characteristic, a remarkable skill 
in imitation, which is exercised not merely in daily life, but 
also in art. They have not yet succeeded in representing 
the beautiful, as beautiful ; for in their painting, perspective 
and shadow are wanting. And although a Chinese 
painter copies European pictures (as the Chinese do every- 
thing else) correctly ; although he observes accurately how 
many scales a carp has ; how many indentations there are in 
the leaves of a tree ; what is the form of various trees, and 
how the branches bend ; — the Exalted, the Ideal and Beau- 
tiful is not the domain of his art and skill. The Chinese 
are, on the other harid, too proud to learn anything from 
Europeans, although they must often recognize their su- 
periority. A merchant in Canton had a European ship 
built, but at the command of the Grovernor it was imme- 
diately destroyed. The Europeans are treated as beggars, 
because they are compelled to leave their home, and seek 
for support elsewhere than in their own country. Besides, 
the Europeans, just because of their intelligence, have not 
yet been able to imitate the superficial and perfectly natural 
cleverness of the Chinese. Their preparation of varnishes, 
— their working of metals, and especially their art of casting 
them extremely thin, — their porcelain manufacture and many 
other things, have not yet been completely mastered by 
Europeans. 

This is the character of the Chinese people in its various 
aspects. Its distinguishing feature ii-, that everything 
which belongs to Spirit, — unconstrained morality, in practice 
and theory, Heart, inward Religion, Science and Art pro- 
perly so called, — is alien to it. The Emperor always speaks 



SECT. II. INDIA. 145 

with majesty and paternal kindness and tenderness to the 
people ; who, however, cherish the meanest opinion of them- 
selves, and believe that they are born only to drag the car of 
Imperial Power. The burden which presses them to the 
ground, seems to them to be their inevitable destiny ; and 
it appears nothing terrible to them to sell themselves as 
slaves, and to eat the bitter bread of slavery. Suicide, the 
result of revenge, and the exposure of children, as a com- 
mon, even daily occurrence, shew the little respect in which 
they hold themselves individually, and humanity in general. 
And though there is no distinction conferred by birth, and 
every one can attain the highest dignity, this very equality 
testifies to no triumphant assertion of the worth of the inner 
man, but a servile consciousness — one which has not yet 
matured itself so far as to recognise distinctions. 



SECTION 11. 

INDIA. 

India, like China, is a phenomenon antique as well as 
modern ; one which has remained stationary and fixed, and 
has received a most perfect home-sprung development. It 
has always been the land of imaginative aspiration, and 
appears to us still as a Tairy region, an enchanted World. 
In contrast with the Chinese State, which presents only 
the most prosaic Understanding,* India is the region of 
phantasy and sensibility. The point of advance in principle 
which it exhibits to us may be generally stated as follows : — • 
In China the patriarchal principle rules a people in a condi- 
tion of nonage, the part of whose moral resolution is oc- 
cupied by the regulating law, and the moral oversight of the 
Emperor. Now it is the interest of Spirit that external con- 
ditions should become internal ones ; that the natural and 
the spiritual world should be recognized in the subjective 
aspect belonging to intelligence ; by which process the unity of 
subjectivity and [positive] Being generally — or the Idealism 
of Existence — is established. This 1 dealism, then, is found 

* "Verstand" — "receptive understanding," in contrast with "Ver- 
nunft," — " substantial and creative intellect." — Tr. 

L 



146 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

in India, but only as an Idealism of imagination, without 
distinct conceptions ; — one which does indeed free existence 
from Beginning and Matter, [liberates it from temporal 
limitations and gross materiality], but changes everything 
into the merely Imaginative ; for although the latter appears 
interwoven with definite conceptions and Thought presents 
itself as an occasional concomitant, this happens only 
through accidental combination. Since, however, it is the 
abstract and absolute Thought itself that enters into these 
dreams as their material, we may say that Absolute Being 
is presented here as in the ecstatic state of a dreaming 
condition. For we have not the dreaming of an actual 
Individual, possessing distinct personality, and simply unfet- 
tering the latter from limitation, but we have the dreaming 
of the unlimited absolute Spirit. 

There is a beauty of a peculiar kind in women, in which 
their countenance presents a transparency of skin, a light 
and lovely roseate hue, which is unlike the complexion of 
mere health and vital vigour, — a more refined bloom, breathed, 
as it were, by the soul withiu, — and in which the features, 
the light of the eye, the position of the mouth, appear soft, 
yielding, and relaxed. This almost unearthly beauty is per- 
ceived in women in those days which immediately succeed 
child-birth ; when freedom from the burden of pregnancy and 
the pains of travail is added to the joy of soul that welcomes 
the gift of a beloved infant. A similar tone of beauty is 
seen also in women during the magical somnambulic sleep, 
connecting them with a world of superterrestrial beauty. A 
great artist (Schoreel) has moreover given this tone to the 
dying Mary, whose spirit is already rising to the regions of 
the blessed, but once more, as it were, lights up her dying 
countenance for a farewell kiss. Such a beauty we find also 
in ito loveliest form in the Indian "World ; a beauty of ener- 
vation in which all that is rough, rigid and contradictory is 
dissolved, and we have only the soul in a state of emotion, — 
a soul, however, in which the death of free self-reliant Spirit 
is perceptible. For should we approach the charm of this 
Flower-life, — a charm rich in imagination and genius, — in 
which its whole environment and all its relations are per- 
meated by the rose-breath of the Soul, and the "World is 
transformed into a Garden of Love, — should we look at it 



SECT. II. INDIA. 147 

more closely, and examine it in the light of Human Dignity 
and Freedom, — the more attractive the first sight of it had 
been, so much the more unworthy shall we ultimately find 
it in every respect. 

The character of Spirit in a state of Dream, as the generic 
principle of the Hindoo Nature, must be further defined. 
In a dream, the individual ceases to be conscious of self as 
such, in contradistinction from objective existences. When 
awake, I exist for myself, aud the rest of creation is an ex- 
ternal, fixed objectivity, as I myself am for it. As exter- 
nal, the rest of existence expands itself to a rationally con- 
nected whole ; a system of relations, in which my individual 
being is itself a member — an individual being united with 
that totality. This is the sphere of Understanding. In the 
state of dreaming, on the contrary, this separation is sus- 
pended. Spirit has ceased to exist for itself in contrast with 
alien existence, and thus the separation of the external and 
individual dissolves before its universality— its essence. The 
dreaming Indian is therefore all that we call finite and indi- 
vidual ; and, at the same time — as infinitely universal and un- 
limited — a something intrinsically divine. The Indian view 
of things is a Universal Pantheism, a Pantheism, however, 
of Imagination, not of Thought. One substance pervades 
the Whole of things, and all individualizations are directly 
vitalized and animated into particular Powers. The sensuous 
matter and content is in each case simply and in the rough 
taken up, and carried over into the sphere of the Universal 
and Immeasurable. It is not liberated by the free power of 
Spirit into a beautiful form, and idealized in the Spirit, so 
that the sensuous might be a merely subservient and com- 
pliant expression of the spiritual ; but [the sensuous object 
itself] is expanded into the immeasurable and undefined, 
and the Divine is thereby made bizarre, confused, and 
?idiculous. These dreams are not mere fables— a play of 
the imagination, in which the soul only revelled in fan- 
tastic gambols : it is lost in them ; hurried to and fro by 
these reveries, as by something that exists really and se- 
riously for it. It is delivered over to these limited objects 
as to its Lords and Grods. Everything, therefore — Sun, 
Moon, Stars, the Gauges, the Indus, Beasts, Plowers — every- 
thing is a Grod to it. And while, in tliis deification, the 

L 2 



i48 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOBLD. 

finite loses its consistency and substantiality, intelligent 
conception of it is impossible. Conversely the Divine, re- 
garded as essentially changeable and unfixed, is also by the 
base form which it assumes, defiled and made absurd. In 
this universal deification of all finite existence, and conse- 
quent degradation of the Divine, the idea of Theanthropy, 
the incarnation of God, is not a particularly important con- 
ception. The parrot, the cow, the ape, &c. are likewise 
incarnations of God, yet are not therefore elevated above 
their nature. The Divine is not individualized to a subject, 
to concrete Spirit, but degraded to vulgarity and senseless- 
ness. This gives us a general idea of the Indian view of the 
Universe. Things are as much stripped of rationality, of 
finite consistent stability of cause and effect, as man is of the 
stedfastness of free individuality, of personality, and freedom. 
Externally, India sustains manifold relations to the His- 
tory of the World. In recent times the discovery has been 
made, that the Sanscrit lies at the foundation of all those 
farther developments which form the languages of Europe ; 
e. g. the Greek, Laiin, German. India, moreover, was the 
centre of emigration for all the western world; but this 
external historical relation is to be regarded rather as a 
merely physical difi'usion of peoples from this point. Al- 
though in India the elements of further developments might 
be discovered, and although we could find traces of their 
being transmitted to the West, this transmission has been 
nevertheless so abstract [so superficial], that that which 
among later peoples attracts our interest, is not anything de- 
rived from India, but rather something concrete, which they 
themselves have formed, and in regard to which they have 
done their best to forget Indian elements of culture. The 
spread of Indian culture is pre-historical, for History is 
limited to that which makes an essential epoch in the deve- 
lopment of Spirit. On the whole, the diffusion of Indian 
culture is only a dumb, deedless expansion ; that is, it pre- 
sents no political action. The people of India have achieved 
no foreign conquests, but have been on every occasion van- 
quished themselves. And as in this silent way. Northern 
India has been a centre of emigration, productive of merely 
physical difiusion, India as a Land of Desire forms an essen- 
tial element in General History. From the most iancieiit 



SECT. II. INDIA. 149 

times downwards, all nations have directed their wishes and 
longings to gaining access to the treasures of this land of 
marvels, the most costly which the Earth presents ; trea- 
sures of Nature — pearls, diamonds, perfumes, rose-essences, 
elephants, lions, &c. — as also treasures of wisdom. The way 
by which these treasures have passed to the West, has at all 
times been a matter of World-historical importance, bound 
up with the fate of nations. Those wishes have been realized ; 
this Land of Desire has been attained ; there is scarcely any 
great nation of the East, nor of the Modern European West, 
that has not gained for itself a smaller or larger portion of it. 
In the old world, Alexander the Great was the first to 
penetrate by land to India, but even he only just touched 
it. The Europeans of the modern world have been able to 
enter into direct connection with this land of marvels only 
circuitously from the other side ; and by way of the sea, 
which, as has been said, is the general uniter of countries. 
The English, or rather the East India Company, are the 
lords of the land; for it is the necessary fate of Asiatic 
Empires to be subjected to Europeans ; and China will, some 
day or other, be obliged to submit to this fate. The num- 
ber of inhabitants is near 200 millions, of whom from 100 to 
112 millions are directly subject to the English. The 
Princes who are not immediately subject to them have Eng- 
lish Agents at their Courts, and English troops in their pay. 
Since the country of the Mahrattas was conquered by the 
English, no part of India has asserted its independence of 
their sway. They 'have already gained a footing in the 
Birman Empire, and passed the Burrampooter, which bounds 
India on the east. 

India Proper is the country which the English divide into 
two large sections : the Deccan, — the great peninsula which 
has the Bay of Bengal on the east, and the Indian Sea on the 
west, — and Hindostan, formed by the valley of the Ganges, 
and extending in the direction of Persia. To the north-east, 
Hindostan is bordered by the Himmalaya, which has been 
ascertained by Europeans to be the highest mountain rang^ 
in the world, for its summits are about 26,000 feet above the 
level of the sea. On the other side of the mountains the 
level again declines ; the dominion of the Chinese extends to 
that point, and when the English wished to go to Lassa to 



150 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOELD. 

tlie Dalai-Lama, they were prevented by the Chinese. To- 
v/ards the west of India flows the Indus, in which the five 
rivers are united, which are called the Pentjdh (Punjab), into 
which Alexander the Great penetrated. The dominion of 
the English does not extend to the Indus ; the sect of the 
Sikhs inhabits that district, whose constitution is thoroughly 
democratic, and who have broken off from the Indian as well 
as from the Mohammedan religion, and occupy an interme- 
diate ground, — acknowledging only one Supreme Being, 
They are a powerful nation, and have reduced to subjection 
Cabul and Cashmere. Besides these there dwell along the 
Indus genuine Indian tribes of the Warrior-Caste. Between 
the Indus and its twin-brother, the Ganges, are great plains. 
The Ganges, on the other hand, forms large Kingdoms 
around it, in which the sciences have been so higlily deve- 
loped, that the countries around the Ganges enjoy a still 
greater reputation than those around the Indus. The 
Kingdom of Bengal is especially flourishing. The Ner- 
buddah forms the boundary between the Deccan and Hin- 
dostan. The peninsula of the Deccan presents a far greater 
variety than Hindostan, and its rivers possess almost as 
great a sanctity as the Indus and the Ganges, — which latter 
has become a general name for all the rivers in India, as the 
Eiver /car' iloxhv- We call the inhabitants of the great 
country which we have now to consider Indians, from the 
river Indus (the English call them Hindoos). They them- 
selves have never given a name to the whole, for it has never 
become one Empire, and yet we consider it as such. 

AVith regard to the political life of the Indians, we must 
first consider the advance it presents in contrast with China. 
In China there prevailed an equality among all the indi- 
viduals composing the empire ; consequently all govern- 
ment was absorbed in its centre, the Emperor, so that 
individual members could not attain to independence and 
subjective freedom. The next degree in advance of this 
Unity is Difference, maintaining its independence against 
the ail-subduing power of Unity. An organic life requires in 
the first place One Soul, and in the second place, a diver- 
gence into differences, which become organic members, and 
in their several ofiices develop themselves to a complete sys- 
tem ; in such a way, however, that their activity reconstitutes 



SECT. IT. INDIA. 151 

that one soul. This freedom of separation is wanting in 
China. The deficiency is that diversities cannot attain to 
independent existence. In this respect, the essential advance 
is made in India, viz. : that independent members ramify from 
the unity of despotic power. Yet the distinctions which 
these imply are referred to Nature. Instead of stimulating 
the activity of a soul as their centre of union, and sponta- 
neously realizing that soul, — as is the case in organic life, — 
they petrify and become rigid, and by their stereotyped 
character condemn the Indian people to the most degrading 
spiritual serfdom. The distinctions in question are the 
Castes. In every rational State there are distinctions which 
must manifest themselves. Individuals must arrive at sub- 
jective freedom, and in doing so, give an objective form to 
these diversities. But Indian culture has not attained to a 
recognition of freedom and inward morality ; the distinctions 
which prevail are only those of occupations, and civil condi- 
tions. In a free state also, such diversities give rise to par- 
ticular classes, so combined, however, that their members 
can maintain their individuality. In India we have only a 
division in masses, — a division, however, that influences the 
whole political life and the religious consciousness. The 
distinctions of class, like that [rigid] Unity in China, remain 
consequently on the same original grade of substantiality, i.e. 
they are not the result of the free subjectivity of individuals. 
Examining the idea of a State and its various functions, we 
recognize the first essential function as that whose scope is 
the absolutely Universal ; of which man becomes conscious 
first in E^ehgion, then in Science. G-od, the Divine [to 
Qeiov] is the absolutely Universal. The highest class there- 
fore will be the one by which the Divine is presented and 
brought to bear on the community — the class of Brahmins. 
The second element or class, will represent subjective power 
and valour. Such power must assert itself, in order that the 
whole may stand its ground, and retain its integrity against 
other such totalities or states. This class is that of the 
"Warriors and Grovernors — the Cshatriyas ; although Brah- 
mins often become governors. The third order of occupation 
recognized is that which is concerned with the specialities of 
iife — the satisfying of its necessities — and comprehends agri- 
culture, crafts and trade ; the class of the Vaisyas. Lastly, 



152 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

the fourth element is tlie class of service, the mere instru- 
ment for the comfort of others, whose business it is to work 
for others for wages affording a scanty subsistence — the 
caste of Sudras. This servile class — properly speaking — 
constitutes no special organic class in the state, because its 
members only serve individuals : their occupations are there- 
fore dispersed among them and are consequently attached to 
that of the previously mentioned castes. — Against the exist- 
ence of "classes" generally, an objection has been brought, — 
especially in modern times, — drawn from the consideration of 
the State in its " aspect " of abstract equity. But equality in 
civil life is something absolutely impossible; for individual 
distinctions of sex and age will always assert themselves ; 
and even if an equal share in the government is accorded to 
all citizens, women and children are immediately passed by^ 
and remain excluded. The distinction between poverty and 
riches, the influence of skill and talent, can be as little 
ignored, — utterly refuting those abstract assertions. But 
while this principle leads us to put up with variety of occu- 
pations, and distinction of the classes to which they are 
entrusted, we are met here in India by the peculiar circum- 
stance that the individual belongs to such a class essentially 
by birth, and is bound to it for life. All the concrete vita- 
lity that makes its appearance sinks back into death. A 
chain binds down the life that was just upon the point of 
breaking forth. The promise of freedom which these dis- 
tinctions hold out is therewith completely nullified. What 
birth has separated mere arbitrary choice has no right to join 
together again : therefore, the castes preserving distinctness 
from their very origin, are presumed not to be mixed or 
united by marriage. Yet even Arrian (Ind. 11) reckoned 
seven castes, and in later times more than thirty have been 
made out ; which, notwithstanding all obstacles, have arisen 
from the union of the various classes. Polygamy necessarily 
tends to this. A Brahmin, e.y. is allowed three wdves from 
the three other castes, provided he has first taken one from 
his own. The offspring of such mixtures originally belonged 
to no caste, but one of the kings invented a method of clas- 
sifying these caste-less persons, which involved also the com- 
mencement of arts and manufactures. The children in 
question were assigned to particular employments ; one 



SECT. II. INDIA, 153 

section became weavers, another wrought in iron, and thus 
diflerent classes arose from these different occupations. The 
highest of these mixed castes consists of those who are born 
from the marriage of a Brahmin with a wife of the Warrior 
caste ; the lowest is that of the Chanddlas, who have to 
remove corpses, to execute criminals, and to perform impure 
offices generally. The members of this caste are excommu- 
nicated and detested; and are obliged to live separate and 
far from association with others. The Chandalas are obliged 
to move out of the way for their superiors, and a Brahmin 
may knock down any that neglect to do so. If a Chandala 
drinks out of a pond it is defiled, and requires to be conse- 
crated afresh. 

"We must next consider the relative position of these castes. 
Their origin is referred to a myth, which tells us that the 
Brahmin caste proceeded from Brahma's mouth; the Warrior 
caste from his arms ; the industrial classes from his loins ; the 
servile caste from his foot. Many historians have set up 
the hypothesis that the Brahmins originally formed a sepa- 
rate sacerdotal nation, and this fable is especially counte- 
nanced by the Brahmins tliemselves. A people consisting 
of priests alone is, assuredly, the greatest absurdity, for we 
know a priori, that a distinctiou of classes can exist only 
within' a people ; in every nation the various occupations of 
life must present themselves, for they belong to the objec- 
tivity of Spirit. One class necessarily supposes another, and 
the rise of castes generally, is only a result of the united 
life of a nation. A nation of priests cannot exist without 
agriculturists and soldiers. Classes cannot be brought toge- 
ther from without ; they are developed only from within. 
They come forth from the interior of national life, and not 
conversely. But that these distinctions are here attributed 
to Nature, is a necessary result of the Idea which the East 
embodies. Tor while the individual ought properly to be 
empowered to choose his occupation, in the East, on the con- 
trary, internal subjectivity is not yet recognized as indepen- 
dent; and if distinctions obtrude themselves, their recognition 
is accompanied by the belief that the individual does not choose 
his particular position for himself, but receives it from Nature. 
In China the people are dependent — without distinction ct 



154 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

classes — on the laws and moral decision of the Emperor ; 
consequently on a human will. Plato, in his Eepublic, assigns 
the arrangement in different classes with a view to various 
occupations, to the choice of the governing body. Here, 
therefore, a moral, a spiritual power is the arbiter. In India, 
Nature is this governing power. But this natural destiny 
need not have led to that degree of degradation which we 
observe here, if the distinctions had been limited to occupa- 
tion with what is earthly— to forms of objective Spirit. In 
the feudalism of mediaeval times, individuals were also con- 
fined to a certain station in life ; but for all there was a 
Higher Being, superior to the most exalted earthly dignity, 
and admission to holy orders was open to all. This is the 
grand distinction, that here Religion holds the same position 
t owards all ; that, although the son of a mechanic becomes 
a mechanic, the son of a peasant a peasant, and free choice 
is often limited by many restrictive circumstances, the reli- 
gious element stands in the same relation to all, and all are 
invested with an absolute value by religion. In India the 
direct contrary is the case. Another distinction between the 
classes of society as they exist in the Christian world and 
those in Hindostan is the moral dignity which exists among 
us in every class, constituting that which man must possess 
in and through himself. In this respect the higher classes 
are equal to the lower ; and while religion is the higher sphere 
in which all sun themselves, equality before the law — rights 
of person and of property — are gained for every class. But 
by the fact that in India, as already observed, differences 
extend not only to the objectivity of Spirit, but also to its 
absolute subjectivity, and thus exhaust all its relations — 
neither morality, nor justice, nor religiosity is to be found. 

Every caste has its especial duties and rights. Duties 
and rights, therefore, are not recognized as pertaining to 
mankind generally, but as those of a particular caste. 
While we say, " Bravery is a virtue," the Hindoos say, on 
the contrary, "Bravery is the virtue of the Cshatryas'* 
Humanity generally, human duty and human feeling do 
not manifest themselves ; we find only duties assigned to 
the several castes. Everything is petrified into these dis- 
tinctions, and over this petrifaction a capricious destiny holds 



SECT. II. INDIA. 155 

sway. Morality and human dignity are unknown ; evil 
passions have their full swing ; the Spirit wanders into the 
Dream-World, and the highest state is Annihilation. 

To gain a more accurate idea of what the Brahmins are, 
and in what the Brahminical dignity consists, we must in 
vestigate the Hindoo religion and the conceptions it in^ 
volves, to which we shall have to return further on ; for the 
respective rights of castes have their basis in a religious re- 
lation. JBrahma (neuter) is the Supreme in Eeligion, but 
there are besides chief divinities Brahma ( masc.) Vishnu or 
Krishna^mcdi.vi\2ite in infinitely diverse forms — and Siva. 
These form a connected Trinity. Brahma is the highest ; 
but Vishnu or Krishna, Siva, the Sun moreover, the Air, &c. 
are also Brahm, i.e. Substantial Unity. To Brahm itself 
no sacrifices are offered ; it is not honoured ; but prayers are 
presented to all other idols. Brahm itself is the Substantial 
Unity of All. The highest religious position of man, there- 
fore is, being exalted to Brahm. If a Brahmin is asked 
what Brahm is, he answers ; When I fall back within my- 
self, and close all external senses, and say 6m to myself, that 
is Brahm. Abstract unity with Grod is realized in this 
abstraction from humanity. An abstraction of this kind 
may in some cases leave everything else unchanged, as does 
devotional feeling, momentarily excited. But among the 
Hindoos it holds a negative position towards all that is con- 
crete ; and the highest state is supposed to be this exaltation, 
by which the Hindoo raises himself to deity. The Brahmins, 
in virtue of their birth, are already in possession of the 
Divine. The distinction of castes involves, therefore, a dis- 
tinction between present deities and mere limited mortals. 
The other castes may likewise become partakers in a Regene- 
ration; but they must subject themselves to immense 
self-denial, torture and penance. Contempt of life, and of 
living humanicy, is the chief feature in this ascesis. A large 
number of the non-Brahminical population strive to attain 
Regeneration. They are called Yogis. An Englishman who, 
on a journey to Thibet to visit the Dalai-Lama, met such a 
Yogi, gives the following account : The Yogi was already on 
the second grade in his ascent to Brahminical dignity. He 
had passed the first grade by remaining for twelve years on 
his leg», without ever sitting or lying down. At first he had 



156 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WOfilD. 

bound himself fast to a tree with a rope, until he had accus- 
tomed himself to sleep standing. The second grade required 
him to keep his hands clasped together over his head for 
twelve years in succession. Already his nails had almost 
grown into his hands. The third grade is not always passed 
through in the same way ; generally the Yogi has to spend a 
day hetweenjlvejires, that is, between four fires occupying the 
four quarters of heaven, and the Sun. He must then swing 
backwards and forwards over the fire, a ceremony occupying 
three hours and three quarters. Englishmen present at an act 
ofthiskind, say thatin half an hour the blood streamed forth 
from every part of the devotee's body ; he was taken down 
and presently died. If this trial is also surmounted, the 
aspirant is finally buried alive, that is put into the ground 
in an upright position and quite covered over with soil ; after 
three hours and three quarters he is drawn out, and if he 
lives, he is supposed to have at last attained the spiritual 
power of a Brahmin. 

Thus only by such negation of his existence does any one 
attain Brahminical power. In its highest degree this nega- 
tion consists in a sort of hazy consciousness of having 
attained perfect mental immobility — the annihilation of all 
emotion and all volition ; — a condition which is regarded as 
the highest amongst the Buddhists also. However pusillan- 
imous and effeminate the Hindoos may be in other respects, 
it is evident how little they hesitate to sacrifice themselves 
to the Highest, — to Annihilation. Another instance of the 
same is the fact of wives burning themselves after the death 
of their husbands. Should a woman contravene this tradi- 
tional usage, she would be severed from society, and perish 
in solitude. An Englishman states that he also saw a woman 
burn herself because she had lost her child He did all that 
he could to divert her away from her purpose ; at last 
he applied to her husband who was standing by, but he 
shewed himself perfectly indifferent, as Jie had more wives at 
home. Sometimes twenty women are seen tlirowing them- 
selves at once into the Granges, and on the Himmalaya 
range an English traveller found three women seeking the 
source of the Granges, in order to put an end to their life in 
this holy river, xlt a religious festival in the celebrated 
temple of Juggernaut in Orissa, on the Bay of Bengal, where 



SECT. II. INDIA. 157 

millions of Hindoos assemble, the image of the god Yishnu 
is drawn in procession on a ear : about five hundred men set 
it in motion, and many fling themselves down before its 
wheels to be crushed to pieces. The whole sea-shore is al- 
ready strewed with the bodies of persons who have thus 
immolated themselves. Infanticide is also very common in 
India. Mothers throw their children into the Ganges, or let 
them pine away under the rays of the sun. The morality 
which is involved in respect for human life, is not found 
among the Hindoos. There are besides those already men- 
tioned, infinite modifications of the same principle of conduct, 
all pointing to annihilation. This, e. g.y is the leading 
principle of the Gymnosophists, as the Greeks called them. 
Naked Eakirs wander about without any occupation, like 
the mendicant friars of the Catholic church ; live on the alms 
of others, and make it their aim to reach the highest degree 
of abstraction — the perfect deadening of consciousness ; a 
point from which the transition to physical death is no great 
step. 

This elevation which others can only attain by toilsome 
labour is, as already stated, the birthright of the Brahmins. 
The Hindoo of another caste, must, therefore, reverence the 
Brahmin as a divinity ; fall down before him, and say to him : 
" Thou art God." And this elevation cannot have anything 
to do with moral conduct, but — inasmuch as all internal mo- 
rality is absent — is rather dependent on a farrago of obser- 
vances relating to the merest externalities and trivialities of 
existence. Human life, it is said, ought to be a perpetual 
Worship of God. It is evident how hollow such general 
aphorisms are, when we consider the concrete forms whicli 
they may assume. They require another, a farther qualifica- 
tion, if they are to have a meaning. The Brahmins are a 
present deity, but their spirituality has not yet been reflected 
inwards in contrast with JN'ature ; and thus that which is 
purely indifferent is treated as of absolute importance. The 
employment of the Brahmins consists principally in the 
reading of the Ye das : they only have a right to read them. 
Were a Sudra to read the Vedas, or to hear them read, he 
would be severely punished, and bnrning oil must be poured 
into his ears. The external observances binding on the 
Brahmins are prodigiously numerous, and the Laws of Man u 



1^8 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

treat of tliem as the most essential part of duty. The 
Brahmin must rest on one particular foot in rising, then 
wash in a river; his hair and nails must be cut in neat 
curves, his whole body purified, his garments white ; in his 
hand must be a staff of a specified kind ; in his ears a golden 
ear-ring. If the Brahmin meets a man of an inferior caste, 
he must turn back and purify himself. He has also to read 
in the Vedas, in various ways : each word separately, or 
doubling them alternately, or backwards. He may not look 
to the sun when rising or setting, or when overcast by clouds 
or reflected in the water. He is forbidden to step over a 
rope to which a calf is fastened, or to go out when it rains. 
He may not look at his wife when she eats, sneezes, gapes, 
or is quietly seated. At the midday meal he may only have 
one garment on, in bathing never be quite naked. How 
minute these directions are, may be especially judged of from 
the observances binding on the Brahmins in regard to satis- 
fying the calls of nature. This is forbidden to them in a 
great thoroughfare, on ashes, on ploughed land, on a hill, a 
nest of white ants, on wood destined for fuel, in a ditch, 
walking or standing, on the bank of a river, &c. At such a 
time they may not look at the sun, at w'ater or at animals. 
By day they should keep their face generally directed to the 
north, but by night to the south ; only in the shade are they 
allowed to turn to which quarter they like. It is forbidden 
to every one who desires a long life, to step on potsherds, 
cotton seeds, ashes, or sheaves of corn, or his urine. In the 
episode Nala, in the poem of Mahabharata, we have a story 
of a virgin who in her 21st year, — the age in which the 
maidens themselves have a right to choose a husband, — 
makes a selection from among her wooers. There are five of 
them ; but the maiden remarks that four of them do not 
stand firmly on their feet, and thence infers correctly that 
they are Grods. She therefore choses the fifth, who is a verit- 
able man. But besides the four despised divinities there 
are two malevolent ones, whom her choice had not favoured, 
and who on that account wish for revenge. They therefore 
keep a strict watch on the husband of their beloved in every 
step and act of life, with the design of inflicting injury upon 
him if he commits a misdemeanour. The persecuted husband 
does nothing that can be brought against him, until at last 



82CT. II. INDIA. 159 

he is so incautious as to step on his urine. The Genius has 
now an advantage over him ; he afflicts him with a passion 
for gambling, and so plunges him into the abyss. 

While, on the one hand, the Brahmins are subject to 
these strict limitations and rules, on the other hand their 
life is sacred ; it cannot answer for crimes of any kind ; and 
their property is equally secure from being attacked. The 
severest penalty which the ruler can inflict upon them 
amounts to nothing more than banishment. The English 
wished to introduce trial by jury into India, — the jury to 
consist half of Europeans, half of Hindoos, — and submitted 
to the natives, whose wishes on the subject were consulted, 
the powers with which the panel would be entrusted. The 
Hindoos were for making a number of exceptions and limi- 
tations. They said, among other things, that they could not 
consent that a Brahmin should be condemned to death ; not 
to mention other objections, e.g. that looking at and examin- 
ing a corpse was out of the question. Although in the 
case of a Warrior the rate of interest may be as high as three 
per cent, in that of a Vaisya four per cent, a Bralimin is 
never required to pay more than two per cent. The Brahmin 
possesses such a power, that Heaven's lightning would 
strike the King who ventured to lay hands on him or his 
property. Eor the meanest Brahmin is so far exalted above 
the King, that he would be polluted by conversing with him, 
and would be dishonoured by his daughters choosing a prince 
in marriage. In Manu's Code it is said; " If any one pre- 
sumes to teach a Brahmin his duty, the King must order 
that hot oil be poured into the ears and mouth of such an 
instructor. If one who is only once-born, loads one 
who is twice-born with reproaches, a red hot iron bar ten 
inches long shall be thrust into his mouth." On the other 
hand a Sudra is condemned to have a red hot iron thrust 
into him from behind if he rest himself in the chair of a 
Brahmin, and to have his foot or his hand hewed off if he 
pushes against a Brahmin with hands or feet. It is even 
permitted to give false testimony, and to lie before a Court of 
Justice, if a Brahmin can be thereby freed from condem- 
nation. 

As the Brahmins enjoy advantages over the other Castes, 
the latter in their turn have privileges according to prece- 
dence, over their inferiors. If a Sudra is defiled by contact 



IGO PAET I, THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

with a Pariab, he has the right to knock him down on the 
spot. Humanity on the part of a higher Caste towards an 
inferior one is entirely forbidden, and a Brahmin would never 
think of assisting a member of another Caste, even when in 
danger. The other Castes deem it a great honour when a 
Brahmin takes their daughters as his wives, — a thing how- 
ever, which is permitted him, as already stated, only when 
he has already taken one from his own Caste. Thence arises 
the freedom the Brahmins enjoy in getting wives. At the 
great religious festivals they go among the people and choose 
those that please them best ; but they also repudiate them 
at pleasure. 

If a Brahmin or a member of any other Caste transgresses 
the above cited laws and precepts, he is himself excluded 
from his caste, and in order to be received back again, he 
must have a hook bored through the hips, and be swung re- 
peatedly backwards and forwards in the air. There are also 
other forms of restoration, A Eajah who thought himself 
injured by an English Governor, sent two Brahmins to Eng- 
land to detail his grievances. But the Hindoos are forbidden 
to cross the sea, and these envoys on their return were 
declared excommunicated from their caste, and in order to 
be restored to it, they had to be born again from a golden 
cow. The imposition was so far lightened, that only those 
parts of the cow out of which they had to creep were obhged 
to be golden ; the rest might consist of wood. These va- 
rious usages and religious observances to which every Caste 
is subject, have occasioned great perplexity to the English, 
especially in enlisting soldiers. At first these were taken 
from the Sudra-Caste, which is not bound to observe so 
many ceremonies ; but nothing could be done with them, 
they therefore betook themselves to the Cshatriya class. 
These however have an immense number of regulations to 
observe, — they may not eat meat, touch a dead body, drink 
out of a pool in which cattle or Europeans have drunk, not 
eat what others have cooked, &c. Each Hindoo assumes one. 
definite occupation, and that only, so that one must have an 
infinity of servants ; — a Lieutenant has tJiirty, a Major sixty. 
Thus every Caste has its own duties ; the lower the Caste, 
the less it has to observe ; and as each individual has his 
position assigned by birth, beyond this fixed arrangement 
everything is governed by caprice and force. In the Code 



SECT. II. INDIA. ICl 

of Manu punishments increase in proportion to the inferior- 
ity of Castes, and there is a distinction in other respects. 
If a man of a higher Caste brings an accusation against an 
inferior without proof, the former is not punished ; if the 
converse occurs, the punishment is very severe. Cases of 
theft are exceptional ; in this case the higher the Caste the 
heavier is the penalty. 

In respect to property the Brahmins have a great advan- 
tage, for they pay no taxes. The prince receives half the 
income from the lands of others ; the remainder has -to 
suffice for the cost of cultivation and the support of the 
labourers. It is an extremely important question, whether 
the cultivated land in India is recognized as belonging to the 
cultivator, or belongs to a so-called manorial proprietor. 
The English themselves have had great difficulty in estab- 
lishing a clear understanding about it. For when they 
conquered Bengal, it was of great importance to them, to 
determine the mode in which taxes were to be raised on 
property, and they had to ascertain whether these should be 
imposed on the tenant cultivators or the lord of the soil. 
They imposed the tribute on the latter ; but the result was 
that the proprietors acted in the most arbitrary manner : 
drove away the tenant cultivators, and declaring that such or 
such an amount of land was not under cultivation, gained 
an abatement of tribute. They then took back the expelled 
cultivators as day-labourers, at a low rate of wages, and had 
the land cultivated on their own behalf. The whole income 
belonging to every village is, as already stated, divided into 
two parts, of which one belongs to the Baja, the other to 
the cultivators ; but proportionate shares are also received 
by the Provost of the place, the Judge, the "Water- Surveyor, 
the Brahmin who superintends religious worship, the Astro- 
loger (who is also a Brahmin, and announces the days of good 
and ill omen), the Smith, the Carpenter, the Potter, the 
Washerman, the Barber, the Physician, the Dancing Girls, 
the Musician, the Poet. This arrangement is fixed and im- 
mutable, and subject to no one's will. All political revolu- 
tions, therefore, are matters of indifierence to the common 
Hindoo, for his lot is unchanged. 

The view given of the relation of castes leads directly to 
she subject of Beligion. For the claims of caste are, as 

M 



162 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

already remarked, not merely secular, but essentially reli- 
gious, and the Brahmins in their exalted dignity are the very 
gods bodily present. In the laws of Manu it is said : " Let the 
King, even in extreme necessity, beware of exciting the 
Brahmins against him ; for they can destroy him with their 
power, — they who create Fire, Sun, Moon, &c." They are 
servants neither of God nor of his People, but are God 
himself to the other Castes, — a position of things which con- 
stitutes the perverted character of the Hindoo mind. The 
dreaming Unity of Spirit and nature, which involves a mon- 
strous bewilderment in regard to all phenomena and relations, 
we have already recognized as the principle of the Hindoo 
Spirit. The Hindoo Mythology is therefore only a wild 
extravagance of Fancy, in which nothing has a settled form ; 
which takes us abruptly from the Meanest to tlie Highest, 
from the most sublime to the most disgusting and trivial. 
Thus it is also difficult to discover what the Hindoos under- 
stand by Brahm. We are apt to take our conception of 
Supreme Divinity, — the One,— the Creator of Heaven and 
Earth, — and apply them to the Indian Brahm. Brahma is 
distinct from Brahm — the former constituting one person- 
ality in contrasted relation to Yisbuu and Siva. Many 
therefore call the Supreme Existence wlio is over the first 
mentioned deity, Parahrahma. The English have taken a 
good deal of trouble to find out what Brahm properly is. 
Wilford has asserted that Hindoo conceptions recognize two 
Heavens : the first, the earthly paradise, the second. Heaven 
in a spiritual sense. To attain them, two different modes of 
worship are supposed to be required. The one involves ex- 
ternal ceremonies. Idol- Worship ; the other requires that 
the Supreme Being should be hououred in spirit. Sacrifices, 
purifications, pilgrimages are not needed in the latter. This 
authority states moreover that there are few Hindoos ready 
to pursue the second way, because they cannot understand 
in what the pleasure of the second heaven consists, and that if 
one asks a Hindoo whether he worships Idols, every one says 
"Yes ! " but to the question, " Do you worship the Supreme 
Being ? " every one answers " No." If the further question 
is put, " What is the meaning of that practice of yours, that 
silent meditation which some of your learned men speak 
of? " they respond, "When I pray to the honour of one of 



SECT. II. INDIA. 163 

tbe Gods, I sit down, — the foot of either leg on the thigh of the 
other, — look towards Heaven, and calmly elevate my thought? 
with my hands folded in silence ; then I say, I am Brahm 
the Supreme Being. "We are not conscious to ourselves of 
being Brahm, by reason of Maya (the delusion occasioned by 
the outward world). It is forbidden to pray to him, and 
to offer sacrifices to him in his own nature ; for this would be 
to adore ourselves. In every case therefore, it is only ema- 
nations of Brahm that we address." Translating these ideas 
then into our own process of thought, we should call 
Brahm the pure unity of thought in itself — Grod in the 
incomplexity of his existence. No temples are consecrated 
to him, and he receives no worship. Similarly, in the Catho- 
lic religion, the churches are not dedicated to Grod, but 
to the saints. Other Englishmen, who have devoted them- 
selves to investigating the conception of Brahm, have 
thought Brahm to be an unmeaning epithet, applied to all 
gods : so that Vishnu says, " I am Brahm ;" and the Sun, 
the Air, the Seas are called Brahm. Brahm would on this 
supposition be substance in its simplicity, which by its very 
nature expands itself into the limitless variety of phenome- 
nal diversities. Eor this abstraction, this pure unity, is that 
which lies at the foundation of All,— the root of all definite 
existence. In the intellection of this unity, all objectivity 
falls away ; for the purely Abstract is intellection itself in its 
greatest vacuity. To attain this Death of Life during life 
itself — to constitute this abstraction — requires the disap- 
pearance of all moral activity and volition, and of all 
intellection too, as in the Religion of Fo ; and this is the 
object of the penances already spoken of. 

The complement to the abstraction Brahm must then be 
looked for in the concrete complex of things ; for the prin- 
ciple of the Hindoo religion is the Manifestation of Diversity 
[in "Avatars."] These then, fall outside that abstract Unity 
of Thought, and as that which deviates from it, constitute 
the variety found in the world of sense, the variety of intel- 
lectual conceptions in an unreflected sensuous form. In this 
way the concrete complex of material things is isolated from 
Spirit, and, presented in wild distraction, except as re- 
absorbed in the pure ideality of Brahm. The other deities 
are therefore things of sense : Mountains, Streams, Beasts, 

M 2 



164! PART I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

the Sun, the Moon, the Granges. The next stage is the con- 
centration of this wild variety into substantial distinctions, 
and the comprehension of them as a series of divine persons, 
Vishnu, Siva, Mahadeva are thus distinguished from Brahma. 
In the embodiment Yishnu, are presented those incarnations 
in which God has appeared as man, and which are always 
historical personages, who eiFected important changes and 
new epochs. The power of procreation is likewise a sub- 
stantial embodiment; and in the excavations grottos and 
pagodas of the Hindoos, the Lingam is always found as sym- 
bolizing the male, and the Lotus the female visprocreandi. 

"With this Duality, — abstract unity on the one side and 
the abstract isolation of the world of sense on the other side, 
— exactly corresponds the double form of Worship, in the 
relation of the human subjectivity to Grod. The one side of 
this duality of worship, consists in the abstraction of pure 
self-elevation — the abrogation of real self-consciousness ; a 
negativity which is consequently manifested, on the one 
hand, in the attainment of torpid unconsciousness — on the 
other hand in suicide and the extinction of all that is worth 
calling life, by self-inflicted tortures. The other side of 
worship consists in a wild tumult of excess ; when all 
sense of individuality has vanished from consciousness by 
immersion in the merely natural ; with which individuality 
thus makes itself identical, — destroying its consciousness 
of distinction from Nature. In all the pagodas, therefore, 
prostitutes and dancing girls are kept, whom the Brahmins 
instruct most carefully in dancing, in beautiful postures and 
attractive gestures, and who have to comply with the wishes 
of all comers at a fixed price. Theological doctrine — relation 
of religion to morality — is here altogether out of the question. 
On the one hand Love — Heaven — in short everything spiritual 
— is conceived by the fancy of the Hindoo ; but on the other 
hand his conceptions have an actual sensuous embodiment, 
and he immerses himself by a voluptuous intoxication in the 
merely natural. Objects of religious worship are thus either 
disgusting forms produced by art, or those presented by 
Nature. Every bird, every monkey is a present god, an 
absolutely universal existence. The Hindoo is incapable of 
holding fast an object in his mind by means of rational 
predicates assigned to it, for this requires reflection. While 



SECT. II. INDIA. 165 

a universal essence is wrongly transmuted into sensuous 
objectivity, the latter is also driven from its definite charac- 
ter into universality, — a process whereby it loses its footing 
and is expanded to indefiniteness. 

If we proceed to ask how far their religion exhibits the 
Morality of the Hindoos, the answer must be that the former 
is as distinct from the latter, as Brahm from the concrete 
existence of which he is the essence. To us, religion is the 
knowledge of that Being who is emphatically our Being, 
and therefore the substance of our knowledge and volition ; 
the proper office of which latter is to be the mirror of this 
fundamental substance. But that requires this [Highest] 
Being to be in se a personality, pursuing divine aims, such 
as can become the purport of human action. Such an idea 
of a relation of the Being of Grod as constituting the 
universal basis or substance of human action, — such a mo- 
rality cannot be found among the Hindoos ; for they have 
not the Spiritual as the import of their consciousness. On 
the one hand their virtue consists in the abstraction from 
all activity — the condition they call '* Brahm." On the 
other hand every action with them is a prescribed external 
usage ; not free activity, the result of inward personality. 
Thus the moral condition of the Hindoos, (as already 
observed) shews itself most abandoned. In this all Eng- 
lishmen agree. Our judgment of the morality of the 
Hindoos is apt to be warped by representations of their 
mildness, tenderness, beautiful and sentimental fancy. But 
we must reflect that in nations utterly corrupt, there are 
sides of character which may be called tender and noble. 
We have Chinese poems in which the tenderest relations of 
love are depicted ; in which delineations of deep emotion, 
humility, modesty, propriety are to be found ; and which 
may be compared with the best that European literature 
contains. The same characteristics meet us in many Hindoo 
poems ; but rectitude, morality, freedom of soul, conscious- 
ness of individual right are quite another thing. The anni- 
hilating of spiritual and physical existence lias nothing 
concrete in it ; and absorption in the abstractly . Universal 
has no connection with the real. Deceit and cunning are 
the fundamental characteristics of the Hindoo. Cheating^ 
stealing, robbing, murdering are with him habitual. Hum- 



1G6 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WOULD. 

blj crouching and abject before a victor and lord, be is 
recklessly barbarous to the vanquished and subject. Cha- 
racteristic of the Hindoo's humanity is the fact that he kills no 
brute animal, founds and supports rich hospitals for brutes, 
especially for old cows and monkeys, — but that through the 
whole land, no single institution can be found for human 
beings who are diseased or infirm from age. The Hindoos 
will not tread upon ants, but they are perfectly indifferent 
when poor wanderers pine away with hunger. The Brahmins 
are especially immoral. According to English reports, they 
do nothing but eat and sleep. In what is not forbidden them 
by the rules of their order they follow natural impulses 
entirely. When they take any part in public life they 
shew themselves avaricious, deceitful, voluptuous. AVith 
those whom they have reason to fear, they are humble enough ; 
for which they avenge themselves on their dependents. " I 
do not know an honest man among them," says an English 
authority. Children have no respect for their parents : sons 
maltreat their mothers. 

It would lead us too far to give a detailed notice of Hindoo 
Ai^t and Science. But we may make the general remark, that a 
more accurate acquaintance with its real value has not a little 
diminished the widely bruited fame of Indian Wisdom. Ac- 
cording to the Hindoo principle of pure self-renouncing 
Ideality, and that [phenomenal] variety which goes to the op- 
posite extreme of sensuousness, it is evident that nothing but 
abstract thought and imagination can be developed. Thus, 
e.ff., their grammar has advanced to a high degree of consis^ 
tent regularity ; but when substantial matter in sciences and 
works of art is in question, it is useless to look for it here. 
When the English had become masters of the country, the 
work of restoring to light the records of Indian culture was 
commenced, and William Jones first disinterred the poems 
of the Grolden Age. The English exhibited plays at Calcutta : 
this led to a representation of dramas on the part of the 
Brahmins, e.g. the Sacontala of Calidasa, &c. In the 
enthusiasm of discovery the Hindoo culture was very highly 
rated ; and as, when new beauties are discovered, the old 
ones are commonly looked down upon with contempt, 
Hindoo poetry and philosophy were extolled as far superior 
to the Greek. Eor our purpose the most important doeu* 



SECT. IT. INDIA. 1G7 

merits are the ancient and canonical books of the Hindoos, 
especially the V6das. They comprise many divisions, of 
which the fourth is of more recent origin. They consist 
partly of religious prayers, partly of precepts to be observed. 
Some manuscripts of these Yedas have come to Europe, 
tliough in a complete form they are exceedingly rare. The 
writing is on palm leaves, scratched in with a needle. The 
Yedas are very difficult to understand, since they date from 
the most remote antiquity, and the language is a much older 
Sanscrit. ColehrooJce has indeed translated a part, but this 
itself is perhaps taken from a commentary, of which there 
are very many.* Two great epic poems, E-amayana and 
Mahabharata, have also reached Europe. Three quarto 
volumes of the former have been printed, the second volume 
is extremely rare.f Besides these works, the Puranas must 
be particularly noticed. The Pnranas contain the history of 
a god or of a temple. They are entirely fanciful. Another 
Hindoo classical book is the Code of Manu. This Hindoo 
lawgiver has been compared wdth the Cretan Minos, — a name 
which also occurs among the Egyptians ; and certainly this 
extensive occurrence of the same name is noteworthy and can- 
not be ascribed to chance. Manu's code of morals, (pub- 
lished at Calcutta with an English translation by Sir W. 
Jones) forms the basis of Hindoo legislation. It begins wdth 
a Theogony, which is not only entirely different from the 
mythological conceptions of other peoples, (as might be ex- 
pected) but also de^-iates essentially from the Hindoo tradi- 
tions themselves. Eor in these also there are only some lead- 
ing features that pervade the whole. In other respects 
everything is abaadoned to chance, caprice and fancy ; the re- 
sult of which is that the most multiform traditions, shapes 
and names, appear in never ending procession. The time 
w^hen Manu's code was composed, is also entirely unknown 

* Only recently las Professor Rosen, residing in London, gone tho- 
roughly into the matter and given a specimen of the text with a transla- 
tion, " Rig-Vedse Specimen, ed. Fr. Rosen. Lond. 1830." (More 
i-ecently, since Rosen's death, the whole Rig- Veda, London, 1839, has 
been published front MSS. left by him.) 

t '* A. W. V. Sctlegel has published the first and^second Volume ; the 
most important Eoisodes of the Mahabharata have been introduced to 
public notice by F. Bopp, and a complete Edition has appeared at Cal- 
cutta." — Germ. Elitor. 



168 PAKT T. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

and undetermined. The traditions reach beyond twenty- 
three centuries before the birth of Christ: a dynasty of 
the Children of the Sun is mentioned, on which followed 
one of the Children of the Moon. Thus much, however, is 
certain, that the code in question is of high antiquity ; and 
an acquaintance with it is of the greatest importance to 
the English, as their knowledge of Hindoo Law is derived 
from it. 

After pointing out the Hindoo principle in the distinctions 
of caste, in religion and literature, we must also mention the 
mode and form of their political existence, — the polity of the 
Hindoo State.— A State is a realization of Spirit, such that 
in it the self-conscious being of Spirit — the freedom of the 
Will — is realized as Law. Such an institution then, necessarily 
presupposes the consciousness of free will. In the Chinese 
State the moral will of the Emperor is the law : but so that 
subjective, inward freedom is thereby repressed, and the Law 
of Freedom governs individuals only as from without. In 
India the primary aspect of subjectivity, — viz. that of the ima- 
gination, — presents a union of the Natural and Spiritual, in 
which Nature on theone hand, does not present itself as a world 
embodying E/eason, nor the Spiritual on the other hand, as 
consciousness in contrast with Nature. Here the antithesis 
in the [above-stated] principle is wanting. Freedom both as 
ahstract will and as sicbjective freedom is absent. The pro- 
per basis of the State, the principle of freedom is altogether 
absent : there cannot therefore be any State in the true sense 
of the term. This is the first point to be observed : if China 
may be regarded as nothing else but a State, Hindoo political 
existence present us with a people, but no State. Secondly, 
while we found a moral despotism in Chinn, whatever may 
be called a relic of political life inlndia,!^ a despotism without a 
'principle, without any rule of morality and religion: for moral- 
ity and religion (as far as the latter has a reference to human 
action) have as their indispensable condition and basis the 
freedom of the Will. In India, therefore, the most arbitrary, 
wicked, degrading despotism has its full swiig. China, Per- 
sia, Turkey, — in fact Asia generally, is the scene of despotism, 
and, in a bad sense, of tyranny ; but it is regarded as contrary 
to the due order of things, and isdisapproved by religion and 
the moral consciousness of individuals. lu ihose countries, 



SECT. II. INDIA. 169 

tyranny rouses men to resentment ; they detest it and groau 
under it as a burden. To them it is an accident and an irre- 
gularity, not a necessity : it ought not to exist. But in India it 
is normal : for here there is no sense of personal independence 
with which a state of despotism could be compared, and 
which would raise revolt in the soul ; nothing approaching 
even a resentful protest against it, is left, except the corporeal 
smart, and the pain of being deprived of absolute necessaries 
aud of pleasure. 

In the case of such a people, therefore, that which we call 
in its double sense, History, is not to be looked for ; and here 
the distinction between China and India is most clearly and 
strongly manifest. The Chinese possess a most minute 
history of their country, and it has been already remarked, 
what arrangements are made in China, for having everything 
accurately noted down in their annals. The contrary is the 
case in India. Though the recent discoveries of the treasures 
of Indian Literature, have shewn us what a reputation the 
Hindoos have acquired in Greometry, Astronomy, and Alge- 
bra, — that they have made great advances in Philosophy, and 
that among them, Grrammar has been so far cultivated that no 
language can be regarded as more fully developed than the 
Sanscrit, — we find the department of ^is^ory altogether neg- 
lected, or rather non-existent. Por History requires Under- 
standing — the power of looking at an object in an independent 
objective light, and comprehending it in its rational connec- 
tion with other objects. Those peoples therefore are alone 
capable of History, and of prose generally, who have arrived 
at that period of development, (and can make that their start- 
ing point,) at which individuals comprehend their own exist- 
ence as independent, i.e. possess self-consciousness. 

The Chinese are to be rated at what they have made of them- 
selves, looking at them in the entirety of their State. While 
they have thus attained an existence independent of Nature, 
they can also regard objects as distinct from themselves, — as 
they are actually presented, — in a definite form and in their 
real connection. The Hindoos on the contrary are by birth 
given over to an unyielding destiny, while at the same 
time their Spirit is exalted to Ideality ; so that their 
minds exhibit the contradictory processes of a dissolution of 
fixed rational and definite conceptions in their Ideality, and 



170 PABT I. THE ORIENTAL WOELD. 

on the other side, a degradation of this ideality to a multi- 
formity of sensuous objects. This makes them incapable of 
writing History. All that happens is dissipated in their minds 
into confused dreams. What we call historical truth and 
veracity, — intelligent, thoughtful comprehension of events, 
and fidelity in representing them, — nothing of this sort can be 
looked for among the Hindoos. We may explain this defi- 
ciency partly from that excitement and debility of the nerves, 
which prevents them from retaining an object in their minds, 
and firmly comprehending it, for in their mode of apprehen- 
sion, a sensitive and imaginative temperament changes it into 
a feverish dream ; — partly from the fact, that veracity is the 
direct contrary to their nature. They even lie knowingly and 
designedly where misapprehension is out of the question. 
As the Hindoo Spirit is a state of dreaming and mental tran- 
siency — a self-oblivious dissolution — objects also dissolve for 
it into unreal images and indefinitude. This feature is ab- 
solutely characteristic ; and this alone would furnish us with 
a clear idea of the Spirit of the Hindoos, from which all that 
has been said might be deduced. 

But History is always of great importance for a people ; 
since by means of that it becomes conscious of the path of 
development taken by its own Spirit, which expresses itself 
in Laws, Manners, Customs, and Deeds. Laws, compris- 
ing morals and judicial institutions, are by nature the per- 
manent element in a people's existence. But History pre- 
sents a people with their own image in a condition which 
thereby becomes objective to them. Without History their 
existence in time is blindly self-involved, — the recurring play 
of arbitrary volition in manifold forms. History fixes and 
imparts consistency to this fortuitous current, — gives it the 
form of Universality, and by so doing posits a directive and 
restrictive rule for it. It is an essential instrument in deve- 
loping and determining the Constitution — that is, a rational 
political condition : for it is the empirical method of produc- 
ing the Universal, inasmuch as it sets up a permanent object 
for the conceptive powers. — It is because the Hindoos 
have no History in the form of annals, (historia) that they 
have no History in the form of transactions, (res gestae ;) 
that is, no growth expanding into a veritable political 
condition. 



SECT. II. INDIA. 171 

Periods of time are mentioned in the Hindoo Writings, 
and large numbers which have often an astronomical meaning, 
but which have still oftener a quite arbitrary origin. Thus 
it is related of certain Kings that ihey had reigned 70,000 
years, or more. Brahma, the first figure in the Cosmogony, 
and self-produced, is said to have lived 20,000 years, &c. 
Innumerable names of Kings are cited, --among them the in- 
carnations of Yishnu. It would be ridiculous to regard 
passages of this kind as anything historical. In their poems 
Kings are often talked of : these may have been historical 
personages, but they completely vanish in fable ; e.g. they 
retire from the world, and then appear again, after they Viave 
passed ten thousand years in solitude. The numbers in 
question, therefore, have not the value and rational meaning 
which we attach to them. 

Consequently the oldest and most reliable sources of Indian 
History are the notices of Grreek Authors, after Alexander 
the Great had opened the way to India. From them we 
learn that their institutions were the same at that early pe- 
riod as they are now: Santaracottus (Chandragupta) is 
marked out as a distinguished ruler in the northern part of 
India, to which the Bactrian kingdom extended. The Ma- 
hometan historians supply another source of information ; for 
the Mahometans began their invasions as early as the 10th 
century. A Turkish slave was the ancestor of the Ghiznian 
race. His son Mahmoud made an inroad into Hindostan and 
conquered almost the whole country. He fixed his royal 
residence west of Cabul, and at his court lived the poet Per- 
dusi. The Ghiznian dynasty was soon entirely exterminated 
by the sweeping attacks of the Afghans and Moguls. In 
later times nearly the whole of India has been subjected to 
the Europeans. What therefore is known of Indian his- 
tory, has for the most part been communicated through 
foreign channels : the native literature gives only indistinct 
data. Europeans assure us of the impossibility of wading 
through the morasses of Indian statements. More definite 
information may be obtained from inscriptions and docu- 
ments, especially from the deeds of gifts of land to pagodas 
and divinities ; but this kind of evidence supplies names 
only. Another source of information is the astronomical 
literature, which is of high antiquity. Colebrooke thoroughly 



172 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD, 

studied these writings ; though it is very difficult to procure 
manuscripts, since the Brahmins keep them very close ; 
they are moreover disfigured by the grossest interpolations. 
It is found that the statements with regard to constellations 
are often contradictory, and that the Brahmins interpolate 
these ancient works with events belonging to their own time. 
The Hindoos do indeed possess lists and enumerations of 
their Kings, but these also are of the most capricious charac- 
ter ; for we often find twenty Kings more in one list than 
in another ; and should these lists even be correct, they could 
not constitute a history. The Brahmins have no conscience 
in respect to truth. Captain Wilford had procured manu- 
scripts from all quarters with great trouble and expense ; he 
assembled a considerable number of Brahmins, and commis- 
sioned them to make extracts from these works, and to in- 
stitute enquiries respecting certain remarkable events — about 
Adam and Eve, the Deluge, &c. The Brahmins, to please 
their employer, produced statements of the kind required ; 
but there was nothing of the sort in the manuscripts. Wil- 
ford wrote many treatises on the subject, till at last he detec- 
ted the deception, and saw that he had laboured in vain. 
The Hindoos have, it is true, a fixed Era: they reckon from 
Vicramdditya, at whose splendid court lived Calidasa, the 
author of the Sacontala. The most illustrious poets flour- 
ished about the same time. " There were nine pearls at the 
court of Vicramaditya," say the Brahmins: but we cannot 
discover the date of this brilliant epoch. From various 
statements, the year 1401 B.C. has been contended for ; 
others adopt the year 50 B.C., and this is the commonly re- 
ceived opinion. Bentley's researches at length placed Vicra- 
maditya in the twelfth century B.C. But still more recently 
it has been discovered that there were five, or even eight or 
nine kings of that name in India ; so that on this point also 
we are thrown back into utter uncertainty. 

When the Europeans became acquainted witli India, they 
found a multitude of petty Kingdoms, at whose head were 
Mahometan and Indian princes. There was an order of 
things very nearly approaching feudal organization ; and the 
Kingdoms in question were divided into districts, having as 
governors Mahometans, or people of the Warrior Caste of 
Hindoos. The business of these governors consisted in col- 



SECT. II. INDIA. 173 

lecting taxes and carrying on wars ; and they thus formed a 
kind of aristocracy, the Prince's Council of State. But only 
as far as their princes are feared and excite fear, have they 
any power ; and no obedience is rendered to them but by 
force. As long as the prince does not want money, he has 
troops ; and neighbouring princes, if they are inferior to him 
in force, are often obliged to pay taxes, but which are yielded 
only on compulsion. The whole state of things, therefore, is 
not that of repose, but of continual struggle ; while moreover 
nothing is developed or furthered. It is the struggle of an 
energetic will on the part of this or that prince against a 
feebler one ; the history of reigning dynasties, but not of 
peoples ; a series of perpetually varying intrigues and revolts 
— not indeed of subjects against their rulers, but of a prince's 
son, for instance, against his father; of brothers, uncles 
and nephews in contest with each other ; and of functionaries 
against their master. It might be believed that, though the 
Europeans found such a state of things, this was the result 
of the dissolution of earlier superior organizations. It 
might, for instance, be supposed that the period of the Mogul 
supremacy was of one of prosperity and splendour, and of a 
political condition in which India was not distracted religi- 
ously and politically by foreign conquerors. But the his- 
torical traces and lineaments that accidentally present 
themselves in poetical descriptions and legends, bearing 
upon the period in question, always point to the same divided 
condition— the result of war and of the instability of politi- 
cal relations ; while contrary representations may be easily 
recognized as a dream, a mere fancy. This state of things 
is the natural result of that conception of Hindoo life which 
has been exhibited, and the conditions which it necessitates. 
The wars of the sects of the Brahmins and Buddhists, of the 
devotees of Vishnu and of Siva, also contributed their quota 
to this confusion. — There is indeed, a common character 
pervading the whole of India ; but its several states present 
at the same time the greatest variety ; so that in one Indian 
State we meet with the greatest effeminacy, — in another, on 
the contrary, we find prodigious vigour and savage barbarity. 
If then, in conclusion, we once more take a general view 
of the comparative condition of India and China, we shall 
see that China was characterized by a thoroughly unimagina- 



174 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

tive Understanding ; a prosaic life amid firm and definite 
reality : while in the Indian world there is, so to speak, no 
object that can be regarded as real, and firmly defined, — none 
that was not at its first apprehension perverted by the imagina- 
tion to the very opposite of what it presents to an intelligent 
consciousness. In China it is the Moral which constitutes 
the substance of the laws, and which is embodied in external 
strictly determinate relations ; while over all hovers the 
patriarchal providence of the Emperor, who like a Father, 
cares impartially for the interest of his subjects. Among 
the Hindoos, on the contrary — instead of this Unity — Di- 
versity is the fundamental characteristic. E-eligion, War, 
Handicraft, Trade, yes, even the most trivial occupations are 
parcelled out with rigid separation, —constituting as they do 
the import of the one will which they involve, and whose 
various requirements they exhaust. With this is bound up 
a monstrous, irrational imagination, which attaches the 
moral value and character of men to an infinity of outward 
actions as empty in point of intellect as of feeling ; sets aside 
all respect for the welfare of man, and even makes a duty 
of the cruellest and severest contravention of it. Those distinc- 
tions being rigidly maintained, nothing remains for the one 
universal will of the State but pure caprice, against whose 
omnipotence only the fixed caste-distinctions avail for pro- 
tection. The Chinese in their prosaic rationality, reverence 
as the Highest, only the abstract supreme lord ; and they 
exhibit a contemptibly superstitious respect for the fixed 
and definite. Among the Hindoos there is no such super- 
stition so far as it presents an antithesis to Understanding ; 
rather their whole life and ideas are one unbroken super- 
stition, because among them all is reverie and consequent 
enslavement. Annihilation — the abandonment of all reason, 
morality and subjectivity — can only come to a positive feeling 
and consciousness of itself, by extravagating in a boundlessly 
wild imagination ; in which, like a desolate spirit, it finds no 
rest, no settled composure, though it can content itself in no 
other way ; as a man who is quite reduced in body and spirit 
finds his existence altogether stupid and intolerable, and is 
driven to the creation of a dream-world and a delirious bliss 
in Opium. 



175 

SECTION 11.— Continued. 
INDIA —BUDDHISM.* 

It is time to quit the Dream-State characterizing the Hin- 
doo Spirit revelling in the most extravagant maze through all 
natural and spiritual forms ; comprising at the same time the 
coarsest sensuality and anticipations of the profoundest 
thought, and on that very account — as far as free and 
rational reality is concerned — sunk in the most self-aban- 
doned, helpless slavery ; — a slavery, in which the abstract 
forms into which concrete human life is divided, have become 
stereotyped, and human rights and culture have been made 
absolutely dependent upon these distinctions. In contrast 
with this inebriate Dream-life, which in the sphere of reality 
is bound fast in chains, we have the unconstrained Dream- 
life ; which on the one hand is ruder than the former — as not 
having advanced so far as to make this distinction of modes 
oflife— butfor the same reason, has not sunk into the slavery 
which this entails. It keeps itself more free, more inde- 
pendently firm in itself : its world of ideas is consequently 
compressed into simpler conceptions. 

The Spirit of the Phase just indicated, is involved in the 
same fundamental principle as that assigned to Hindoo con- 
ceptions : but it is more concentrated in itself; its religion is 
simpler, and the accompanying political condition more calm 
and settled. This phase comprehends peoples and countries 
of the most varied complexion. "We regard it as embracing 
Ceylon, Farther India with the Birman Empire, Siam, Anam, 
— north of that Thibet, and further on the Chinese Upland 
with its various populations of Mongols and Tartars. We shall 
not examine the special individualities of these peoples, but 
merely characterizetheirKeligion, which constitutes the most 
interesting side of their existence. The Eeligion of these 
peoples is Buddhism, which is the most widely extended 
religion on our globe. In China Buddha is reverenced as 
Me; in Ceylon as Gautama; in Thibet and among the 

1^ 

* As in Heg-el's original plan and in the first lecture the transition 
from Indian Brahminism to Buddhism occupies the place assigned it here, 
and as this position of the chapter on Buddhism agrees better with recent 
investigations, its detachment from the place which h previously 
occupied and mention here will appear sufficiently justified. 



176 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

Mongols this religion has assumed the phase of Lamaism. 
In China — where the religion of Foe early received a great 
extension, and introduced a monastic life — it occupies the 
position of an integrant element of the Chinese principle. Aa 
the Substantial form of Spirit which characterizes China, 
develops itself only to a unity of secular national life, which 
degrades individuals to a position of constant dependence, 
religion also remains in a state of dependence. The element 
of freedom is wanting to it ; for its object is the principle 
of JS^ature in general, — Heaven, — Universal Matter. But 
the [compensating] truth of this alienated form of Spirit 
[Nature occupying the place of the Absolute Spirit] is ideal 
Unity ; the elevation above the limitation of Nature and of 
existence at large ; — the return of consciousness into the 
soul. This element, which is contained in Buddhism, has 
made its way in China, to that extent to which the Chinese 
have become aware of the unspirituality of their condition, 
and the limitation that hampers their consciousness. — In 
this religion, — which may be generally described as the reli- 
gion of self-involvement, [undeveloped Unity]*, — the eleva- 
tion of that unspiritual condition to subjectivity, takes place 
in two ways ; one of which is of a negative, the other of an 
affirmative kind. 

The negative form of this elevation is the concentration of 
Spirit to the Infinite, and must first present itself under 
theological conditions. It is contained in the fundamental 
dogma, that Nothingness is the principle of all things, — that 
all proceeded from and returns to Nothingness. The various 
forms found in the World are only modifications of proces- 
sion [thence]. If an analysis of these various forms were 
attempted, they would lose their quality ; for in themselves 
all things are one and the same inseparable essence, and this 
essence is Nothingness. The connection of this with the 
Metempsychosis can be thus explained : All [that we see] is 
but a change of Form. The inherent infinity of Spirit — 
infinite concrete self-dependence — is entirely separate from 
this Universe of phenomena. Abstract Nothingness is 
properly that which lies beyond Finite Existence — what 

* Compare Hegel's " Vorlesungen iiber die Philosophie der Religion,'' 
2nd Edition, Pt. I. p. 384. 



SECT. II. INDIA. BUDDHISM. 177 

we may call the Supreme Being. This real principle ot 
the Universe is, it is said, in eternal repose, and in itselt 
unchangeable. Its essence consists in the absence of activity 
and volition. For Nothingness is abstract Unity with itself. 
To obtain happiness, therefore, man must seek to assimilate 
himself to this principle by continual victories over himself; 
and for the sake of this, do nothing, wish nothing, desire 
nothing. In this condition of happiness, therefore, Yice or 
Virtue is out of the question ; for the true blessedness is 
Union with Nothingness. The more man frees himself from 
all speciality of existence, the nearer does he approach per- 
fection; and in the annihilation of all activity — in pure 
passivity — he attains complete resemblance to Eoe. The 
abstract Unity in question is not a mere Futurity — a Spiritual 
sphere existing beyond our own ; it has to do with the pre- 
sent ; it is truth for man [as he is], and ought to be realized 
in him. In Ceylon and the Birman Empire, — where this 
Buddhistic Paith has its roots,— there prevails an idea, that 
man can attain by meditation, to exemption from sickness, 
old age and death. 

But while this is the negative form of the elevation of 
Spirit from immersion in the Objective to a subjective reali- 
zation of itself, this Eeligion also advances to the conscious- 
ness of an affirvnative form. Spirit is the Absolute. Yet 
in comprehending Spirit it is a point of essential importance 
in what determinate form Spirit is conceived. "When we 
speak of Spirit as universal, we know that for us it exists only 
in an inward conception; but to attain this point of view, — to 
appreciate Spirit in the pure subjectivity of Thought and con- 
ception, — is the result of a longer process of culture. At that 
point in history at which we have now arrived, the form of 
Spirit is not advanced beyond Immediateness [the idea of it 
is not yet refined by reflection and abstraction], Grod is con- 
ceived in an immediate, unreflected form ; not in the form of 
Thought^ — objectively. But this immediate Form is that of hu- 
manity. The Sun, the Stars do not come up to the idea of Spirit; 
but Man seems to realize it ; and he, as Buddhay Gautama, Foe 
— in the form of a departed teacher, and in the living form 
of the G-rand Lama— receives divine worship. The Abstract 
Understanding generally objects to this idea of a Grodman ; 
alleging as a defect that the form here assigned to Spirit 



178 PAET I. THE ORIENTAIi WORLD. 

is an immediate, [unreflected, unrefined] one,-— that in fact 
it is none other than Man in the concrete. Here the character 
of a whole people is bound up with the theological view just 
indicated. The Mongols — a race extending through the whole 
of central Asia as far as Siberia, where they are subject to the 
E,ussians — worship the Lama; and with this form of worship a 
simple politicalcondition, a patriarchal life is .loselj united; for 
they are properly a Nomad people, and only occasionally are 
commotions excited among them, when they seem to be beside 
themselves, and eruptions and inundations of vast hordes are 
occasioned. Of the Lamas there are three : the best known is 
the Dalai-Lama, who has his seat at Lassa in the kingdom of 
Thibet. A second is the Teshoo-Lama, who under the title of 
Bantshen E-inbotshee resides atTeshoo-Lomboo; thereis also a 
third in Southern Siberia. The first two Lamas preside over 
two distinct sects, of which the priests of one wear yellow caps, 
those of the other, red. The wearers of the yellow caps, — 
at whose head is the Dalai-Lama, and among whose adherents 
is the Emperor of China, — have introduced celibacy among 
the priests, while the red sect allow their marriage. The 
English have become considerably acquainted with the Teshoo- 
Lama and have given us descriptions of him. 

The general form which the spirit of the Lamaistic develop- 
ment of Buddhism assumes, is that of a living human being ; 
while in the original Buddhism it is a deceased person. The two 
hold in common the relationship to a man. The idea of a man 
being worshipped as god, — especially a living man, — has in it 
something paradoxical and revoltiag ; but the following con 
sideratious must be examined before we pronounce judgment 
respecting it. The conception of Spirit involves its being re- 
garded as inherently, intrinsically, universal. This condition 
must be particularly observed, and it must be discovered how 
in the systems adopted by various peoples this universality 
is kept in view. It is not the individuality of the subject that 
is revered, but that which is universal in him ; and which among 
the Thibetians, Hindoos, and Asiatics generally, is regarded as 
the essence pervading all things. This substantial Unity of 
Spirit is realized in the Lama, who is nothing but the form 
in Avhich Spirit manifests itself; and who does not hold this 
Spiritual Essence as his peculiar property, but is regarded 
{IS partaking in it only in order to exhibit it to others, that 



SECT. II. INDIA. BUDDHISM. 179 

they may attain a conception of Spirituality and be led to 
piety and blessedness. The Lama's personality as such- -his 
particular individuality — is therefore subordinate to that sub- 
stantial essence which it embodies. The second point which 
constitutes an essential feature in the conception of the Lama 
is the disconnection from Nature. The Imperial dignity of 
China involved [as we saw,] a supremacy over the powers of Na- 
ture ; while here spiritual power is directly separated from the 
vis Natures. The ideanever crosses therainds of the Lama- wor- 
shippers to desire of the Lama to shew himself Lord of Nature 
— to exercise magical and miraculous power ; for from the being 
they call Grod, they look only for spiritual activity and the 
bestowal of spiritual benefits. Buddha has moreover theexpress 
names " Saviour of Souls," — " Sea of Yirtue," — " the Great 
Teacher." Those who have become acquainted with the 
Teshoo-Lama depict him as a most excellent person, of the 
calmest temper and most devoted to meditation. Thus also 
do the Lama- worshippers regard him. They see in him a man 
constantly occupied with religion, and who when he directs his 
attention to what is human, does so only to impart consolation 
and encouragement by his blessing, and by the exercise of 
mercy and the bestowal of forgiveness. These Lamas lead a 
thoroughly isolated life and have a feminine rather than 
masculine training. Early torn from the arms of his parents 
the Lama is generally a well-formed and beautiful child. He 
is brought up amid perfect quiet and solitude, in a Jviud of 
prison : he is well catered for, and remains without exercise or 
childish play, so that it is not surprising that a feminine sus- 
ceptible tendency prevails in his character. The Grand 
Lamas have under them inferior Lamas as presidents of the 
great fraternities. In Thibet every father who has four sons 
is obliged to dedicate one to a conventual life. The Mongols, 
who are especially devoted to Lamaism — this modification of 
Buddhism — have great respect for all that possesses hfe. They 
live chiefly on vegetables, and revolt from killing any animal, 
even a louse. This worship of the Lamas has supplanted Sha- 
manism, that is, the religion of Sorcery. The Shamans — priests 
of this religion— intoxicate themselves with strong drinks 
and dancing, and while in this state perform their incan- 
tations, fall exhausted on the ground, and utter words which 
pass for oracular. Since Buddliism and Lamaism have takeu 

If 2 



1»0 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

the place of the Shaman Eeligion, the life of the Mongols 
has been simple, prescriptive and patriarchal. "Where they 
take any part in History, we find them occasioning impulses 
that have only been the groundwork of historical develop- 
ment. There is therefore little to be said about the political 
administration of the Lamas. A Vizier has charge of the se- 
cular dominion and reports everything to the Lama : the 
government is simple and lenient ; and the veneration which 
the Mongols pay to the Lama, expresses itself chiefly in their 
asking counsel of him in political affairs. 



SECTION III. 
PERSIA. 

Asia separates itself into two parts, — Hither and JFarther 
Asia; which are essentially different from each other. While 
the Chinese and Hindoos — the two great nations of Parther 
Asia, already considered, — belong to the strictly Asiatic, 
namely the Mongolian Eace, and consequently possess a 
quite peculiar character, discrepant from ours ; the nations of 
Hither Asia belong to the Caucasian, i.e. the European 
Stock. They are related to the West, while the Farther- 
Asiatic peoples are perfectly isolated. The European who 
goes from Persia to India, observes, therefore, a prodigious 
contrast. Whereas in the former country he finds himself 
still somewhat at home,and meets with European dispositions, 
human virtues and human passions, — as soon as he crosses the 
Indus {i.e. in the latter region), he encounters the most repel- 
lent characteristics, pervading every single feature of society. 

With the Persian Empire we first enter on continuous 
History. The Persians are the first Historical People ; Persia 
was the first Empire that passed away. While China and 
India remain stationary, and perpetuate a natural vege- 
tative existence even to the present time, this land has been 
subject to those developments and revolutions, which alone 
manifest a historical condition. The Chinese and the Indian 
Empire assert a place in the historical series only on their 
own account and for us ; [not for neighbours and successors.] 
But here in Persia first arises that light which shines itself, and 
illuminates what is around ; for Zoroaster's " Light" belongs 
to the World of Consciousness — to Spirit as a relation to some- 



SECT. III. PEESIA. 181 

thing distinct from itself. "We see in the Persian World a pure 
exalted Unity, as the essence which leaves the special exist- 
ences that inhere in it, free ; — as the Light, which only mani- 
fests what bodies are ia themselves ; - a Unity which governs 
individuals only to excite them to become powerful for them- 
selves — to develop and assert their individuality. Light 
makes no distinctions : the Sun shines on the righteous and 
the unrighteous, on high and low, and confers on all the 
same benefit and prosperity. Light is vitalizing only in so 
far as it is brought to bear on something distinct from itself, 
operating upon and developing that. It holds a position of 
antithesis to Darkness, and this antithetical relation opens 
out to us the principle of activity and life. The principle 
of development begins with tlie history of Persia. This 
therefore constitutes strictly the beginning of World-His- 
tory; for the grand interest of Spirit in History, is to 
attain an unlimited immanence of subjectivity, — by an abso- 
lute antithesis to attain complete harmony.* 

Thus the transition which we have to make, is only in the 
sphere of the Idea, not in the external historical connection. 
The principle of this transition is that the Universal Essence, 
which we recognized in Brahm, now becomes perceptible to 
consciousness — becomes an object and acquires a positive im- 
port for man. Brahm is not worshipped by the»Hindoos : he 
is nothing more than a condition of the Individual, a religious 
feeling, a non-objective existence, — a relation, which for con- 
crete vitality is that of annihilation. But in becoming objec- 
tive, this Universal Essence acquires a positive nature : man 
becomes free, and thus occupies a position face to face as it 
were with the Highest Being, the latter being made objec- 
tive for him. This form of Universality we see exhibited in 
Persia, involving a separation of man from the Universal 
essence ; while at the same time the individual recognizes 
himself as identical with, [a partaker in,] that essence. In the 
Chinese and Indian principle, this distinction was not made. 
We found only a unit of the Spiritual and the Natural. But 
Spirit still involved in Nature has to solve the problem of 

* In earlier stages of progress, the mandates of Spirit (social and 
political law,) are g-iven as by a power alien to itself — as by some compul- 
sion of mere Nature. Gradually it sees the untruth of this alien form of 
validity — recognizes these mandates as its own, and adopts them freely as 
a law of liberty. It then stands in clear opposition to its logical contraiy 
—Nature. — Tr, 



182 PAET I. THE OKIENTAL WORLD. 

freeing itself from the latter. Eights and Duties iji India 
are intimately connected with special classes, and are there- 
fore only peculiarities attaching to man by the arrangement 
of IS'ature. In China this unity presents itself under the 
conditions o{ paternal government. Man is not free there ; 
he possesses no moral element, since he is identical with the 
external command [obedience is purely natural, as in the 
filial relation, — not the result of reflection and principle.] In 
the Persian principle, Unity first elevates itself to the dis- 
tinction from the merely natural ; w^e have the negation of 
that unreflecting relation which allowed no exercise of mind 
to intervene between the mandate and its adoption by the 
will. In the Persian principle this unity is manifested as 
Light, which in this case is not simply light as such, the most 
universal physical element, but at the same time also spiritual 
purity — the Good. Speciality — the involvement with limited 
Nature — is consequently abolished. Light, in a physical 
and spiritua sense, imports, therefore, elevation — freedom 
from the merely natural. Man sustains a relation to Light — 
to the Abstract Grood — as to something objective, which is ac- 
knowledged, reverenced, and evoked to activity by his AVill. 
If we look back once more, — and we cannot do so too fre- 
quently, — on the phases which we have traversed in arriving at 
this point, we»perceive in China the totality of a moral Whole, 
but excluding subjectivity ; — this totality divided into mem- 
bers, but without independence in its various portions. We 
found only an external arrangement of this political Unity. 
In India, on the contrary, distinctions made themselves pro- 
minent ; but the principle of separation was unspiritual. 
We found incipient subjectivity, but hampered with the con- 
dition, that the separation in question is insurmountable ; 
and that Spirit remains involved in the limitations of Nature, 
and is therefore a self-contradiction. Above this purity of 
Castes is that purity of Light which we observe in Persia ; 
that Abstract Grood,'to which all are ecjually able to approach, 
and in which all equally may be hallowed. The Unity re- 
cognized therefore, now first becomes a principle, not an exter- 
nal bond of soulless order. The fact that every one has a share 
in that principle, secures to him personal dignity. 

First as to GeograpMcal position, we see China and India, 
exhibiting as it were the dull half-conscious brooding of 



SECT. in. PERSIA — THE ZEND PEOPLE. 183 

Spirit, in fruitful plains, — distinct from Avhich is the lofty gir- 
dle of mountains with the wandering hordes that occupy 
them. The inhabitants of the heights, in their conquest, did 
not change the spirit of the plains, but imbibed it them- 
selves. But in Persia the two principles — retaining their di- 
verait — became united, and the mountain peoples with their 
principle became the predominant element. The two chief 
divisions which we have to mention are : — the Persian Upland 
Itself, and the Yalley-plains, which are reduced under the 
dominion of the inhabitants of the Uplands. That elevated 
territory is bounded on the east by the Soliman mountaius, 
which are continued in a northerly direction by the Hindoo 
Koosh and Belur Tag. The latter separate the anterior re- 
gion — Bactriana and Sogdiana, occupying the plains of the 
Oxus — from the Chinese Upland, which extends as far as 
Cashgar. That plain of the Oxus itself lies to the north of 
the Persian Upland, which declines on the south towards the 
Persian Grulf. This is the geographical position of Iran. On 
its western declivity lies Persia (Parsistan ; ) higher to the 
north, Kourdistan, — beyond this Armenia. Thence extend in 
a south-westerly direction the river districts of the Tigris and 
the Euphrates. — The elements of the Persian Empire are the 
Zend race — the old Parsees ; next the Assyrian, Median 
and Babylonian Empire in the region mentioned ; but the 
Persian Empire also includes Asia Minor, Egypt, and Syria, 
with its line of coast ; and thus combines the Upland, the 
Valley Plains and the Coast region. 

CHAPTER I. 
THE ZEND PEOPLE. 
The Zend People derived their name from the language 
in which the Zend Books are written, i.e. the canonical books 
on which the religion of the ancient Parsees is founded. Of 
this religion of the Parsees or Fire-worshippers, there are 
still traces extant. There is a colony of them in Bombay ; 
and on the Caspian Sea there are some scattered families 
that have retained this form of worship. Their national exist- 
ence was put an end to by the Mahometans. The great Zer- 
dusht — called Zoroaster by the Grreeks — wrote his religious 
books in the Zend language. Until nearly the last third of the 
18th century, this language and all the wTitings composed 



184 PART I. THE OEIENTAL "WOULD. 

in it, were entirely unknown to Europeans ; when at length 
the celebrated Frenchman, Anquetil du Perron, disclosed 
to us these rich treasures. Tilled with an enthusiasm for the 
Oriental World, which his poverty did not allow him to 
gratify, he enlisted in a French corps that was about to sail 
for India. He thus reached Bombay, where he met with 
the Parsees, and entered on the study of their religious 
ideas. With indescribable ditii cully he succeeded in obtaining 
their religious books ; making his way into their literature, 
and thus opening an entirely new and wide field of research, 
but which, owing to his imperfect acquaintance with the lan- 
guage, still awaits thorough investigation. 

Where the Zend people, mentioned in the religious books 
of Zoroaster, lived, is difficult to determine. In Media and 
Persia the religion of Zoroaster prevailed, and Xenophon re- 
lates that Cyrus adopted it : but none of these countries was 
the proper habitat of the Zend people. Zoroaster himself calls 
it the pure Ariene : we find a similar name in Herodotus, for 
he says that the Medes were formerly called Arii— a name 
with which the designation Iran is connected. South of the 
Oxus runs a mountain chain in the ancient Bactriana — 
with which the elevated plains commence, that were inhabi- 
ted by the Medes, the Parthians, and the Hyrcanians. In 
the district watered by the Oxus at the commencement of 
its course, Bactra — probably the modern Balk — is said to 
have been situated; from which Cabul and Cashmere are 
distant only about eight days' journey. Here in Bactriana 
appears to have been the seat of the Zend people. In the 
time of Cyrus we find the pure and original faith, and the 
ancient political and social relations such as they are described 
in the Zend books, no longer perfect. Tiius much appears 
certain, that the Zend language, which is connected with the 
Sanscrit, was the language of the Persians, Medes, and Bac- 
trians. The laws and institutions of the people bear. an evi- 
dent stamp of great simplicity. Pour classes are mentioned : 
Priests, Warriors, Agriculturists, and Craftsmen. Trade 
only is not noticed ; from which it would appear that the peo- 
ple still remained in an isolated condition. Governors of 
Districts, Towns, and Koads, are mentioned; so that all points 
to the social phase of society, — the political not being yet 
developed; and nothing indicates a connection with other 



SECT. III. PEES I A — THE ZEND PEOPLE. 185 

Btates. It is essential to note, that we find here no Castes, 
but only Classes, and that there are no restrictions on mar- 
riage between these different Classes ; though the Zend 
writings announce civil laws and penalties, together with 
religious enactments. 

The chief point — that which especially concerns us here — 
is the doctrine of Zoroaster. In contrast with the wretched 
hebetude of Spirit which we find among the Hindoos, a pure 
ether — an exhalation of Spirit — meets us in the Persian 
conception. In it, Spirit emerges from that substan- 
tial Unity of Nature, that substantial destitution of import, 
in which a separation has not yet taken place, — in which 
Spirit has not yet an independent existence in contraposition 
to its object. This people, namely, attained to the conscious- 
ness, that absolute Truth must have the form of TJniver- 
sality— of Unity. This Universal, Eternal, Infinite Essence 
is not recognized at first, as conditioned in any way ; it is 
Unlimited Identity. This is properly (and we have already 
frequently repeated it,) also the character of Brahm. But 
this Universal Being becameobjective, and their Spirit became 
the consciousness of this its Essence ; while on the contrary 
among the Hindoos this objectivity is only the natural one 
of the Brahmins, and is recogni2ied as pure Universality only 
in the destruction of consciousness. Among the Persians 
this negative assertion has become a positive one ; and man 
has a relation to Universal Being of such a kind that he re- 
mains positive in sustaining it. This One, Universal Being, is 
indeed not yet recognized as the free Unity of Thought ; not 
yet *' worshipped in Spirit and in Truth ;" but is still clothed 
with a form — that of Light. But Light is not a Lama, a 
Brahmin, a Mountain, a brute, — this or that particular ex- 
istence, — but sensuous Universality itself; simple manifesta- 
tion. The Persian Eeligion is therefore no idol-worship ; it 
does not adore individual natural objects, but the Universal 
itself. Light admits, moreover, the signification of the Spiri- 
tual ; it is the form of the Good and True, — the substantiality 
of knowledge and volition as well as of all natural things. 
Light puts man in a position to be able to exercise choice ; 
and he can only choose when he has emerged from that which 
had absorbed him. But Light directly involves an Opposite, 
namely, Darkness ; just as Evil is the antithesis of Good, As 



IbQ PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOBLD. 

man could not appreciate Good, if Evil were not ; and as he 
can be really good only when he has become acquainted with 
the contrary, so the Light does not exist without Darkness. 
Among the Persians, Ormuzd and Ahriman present the an- 
tithesis in question. Ormuzd is the Lord of the kingdom of 
Light— of Grood ; Ahriman that of Darkness— of Evil. But 
there is a still higher being from whom both proceeded — a 
Universal Being not affected by this antithesis, called Zer- 
uane-Akerene — the Unlimited All. The All, i.e. is some- 
thing abstract ; it does not exist for itself, and Ormuzd and 
Ahriman have arisen from it. This Dualism is commonly 
brought as a reproach against Oriental thought ; and, as far 
as the contradiction is regarded as absolute, that is certainly 
an irreligious understanding which remains satisfied wdth it. 
But the very nature of Spirit demands antithesis ; the princi- 
ple of Dualism belongs therefore to the idea of Spirit, which, 
in its concrete form, essentially involves distinction. Among 
the Persians, Purity and Impurity have both become subjects 
of consciousness ; and Spirit, in order to comprehend itself, 
must of necessity place the Special and JN'egative existence in 
contrast with the Universal and Positive. Only by overcoming 
this autithesisisSpirit twice-born — regenerated. Thedeficiency 
in the Persian principle is only that the Unity of the antithe- 
sis is not completely recognized ; for in that indefinite con- 
ception of the Uncreated All, whence Ormuzd and Ahriman 
proceeded, the Unity is only the absolutely Frimal existence, 
and does not reduce the contradictory elements to harmony 
in itself. Ormuzd creates of his own free will ; but also 
according to the decree of Zeruane-Akerene ; (the representa- 
tion wavers ;) and the harmonizing of the contradiction is only 
to be found in the contest which Ormuzd carries on with 
Ahriman, and in which he will at last conquer. Ormuzd is 
the Lord of Light, and he creates all that is beautiful and no- 
ble in the World, which is a Kingdom of the Sun. He is the 
excellent, the good, the positive in all natural and spiritual 
existence. Light is the body of Ormuzd ; thence the worship 
of Pire, because Ormuzd is present in all Light ; but he is 
not the Sun oT Moon itself. In these the Persians vene- 
rate only the Light, which is Ormuzd. Zoroaster asks Or- 
muzd who he is ? He answers : " My Name is the ground and 
centre of all existence — Highest Wisdom and Science— Des- 



SECT. III. PEBSIA — THE ZEND PEOPLE. 187 

trover of the Ills of the "World, and maintainer of the Uni- 
verse — Eulness of Blessedness — Pure Will," &c. That 
which comes from Ormuzd is living, independent, and lasting. 
Language testifies to his power ; prayers are his productions. 
Darkness is on the contrary the body of Ahriman ; but a 
perpetual fire banishes him from the temples. The chief 
end of every man's existence is to keep himself pure, and 
to spread this purity around him. The precepts that have this 
in view are very diffuse ; the moral requirements are how- 
ever characterized by mildness. It is said : if a man loads 
you with revihngs, and insults, but subsequently humbles him- 
self, call him your friend. AVe read in the Vendidad, that 
sacrifices consist chiefiy of the flesh of clean animals, flowers 
and fruits, milk and perfumes. It is said there, " xls man 
was created pure and worthy of Heaven, he becomes pure 
again through the law of the servants of Ormuzd, which is 
purity itself ; if he purifies himself by sanctity of thought, 
word, and deed. What is, ' Pure Thought ?' That which 
ascends to the beginning of things. What is * Pure Word ?' 
The Word of Ormuzd, (the Word is thus personified and im- 
ports the living Spirit of the whole revelation of Ormuzd.) 
What is ' Pure Deed ?' The humble adoration of the Hea- 
venly Hosts, created at the beginning of things." It is im- 
plied in this that man should be virtuous : his own will, his 
subjective freedom is presupposed. Ormuzd is not limited 
to particular forms of existence. Sun, Moon, and five other 
stars, which seem to indicate the planets — those illuminating 
and illuminated bodies — are the primary symbols of Ormuzd ; 
the AmsJiaspand^ his first sons. Among these, Mitra is also 
named : but we are at a loss to fix upon the star which this 
name denotes, as we are also in reference to the others. The 
Mitra is placed in the Zend Books among the other stars ; 
yet in the penal code moral transgressions are called " Mitra- 
sins," — e.g. breach of promise, entailing 300 lashes ; to which 
in the case of theft, 300 years of punishment in Hell are to 
be added. Mitra appears here as the presiding genius of 
man's inward higher life. Later on, great importance is as- 
signed to Mitra as the mediator between Ormuzd and men. 
Even Herodotus mentions the adoration of Mitra. In Eome, 
at a later date, it became very prevalent as a secret worsliip ; 
and we find traces of it even far into the middle ages. Be- 



188 PART I. THE OBIENTAL WORLD. 

sides those noticed there are other protecting genii, which rank 
under the Amshaspand, their superiors ; and are the govern- 
ors and preservers of the world. The council of the seven 
great men whom the Persian Monarch had ahout him was 
likewise instituted in imitation of the court of Ormuzd. The 
Fervers — a kind of Spirit-World — are distinguished from the 
creatures of the mundane sphere. The Fervors are not Spi- 
rits according to our idea, for they exist in every natural ob- 
ject, whether fire, water, or earth. Their existence is coeval 
with the origin of things ; they are in all places, in high roads, 
towns, &c., and are prepared to give help to supplicants. 
Their abode is in Gorodman, the dwelling of the " Blessed," 
above the solid vault of heaven. As Son of Ormuzd we find 
the name Dshemshid : apparently the same as he whom the 
Greeks call Achsemenes, whose descendants are called Pishda- 
dians — a race to which Gyrus was reported to belong. Even at 
a later period the Persians seem to have had the designation 
Achsemenians among the Eomane. (Horace. Odes III. i. 44 ) 
Dshemshid, it is said, pierced the earth with a golden dagger; 
which means nothing more than that he introduced agriculture. 
He is said then to have traversed the various countries, origi- 
nated springs and rivers, and thereby fertilized certain tracts 
of land, and made the valleys teem with living beings, &c. In 
the Zendavesta, the name Gustasp is also frequently men. 
tioned, which many recent investigators have been inclined to 
connect with Darius Hystaspes ; an idea however that cannot 
be entertained for a moment, for this Gustasp doubtless be- 
longs to the ancient Zend Eace — to a period therefore antece- 
dent to Cyrus. Mention is made in the Zend books of the 
Turanians also, i.e. the Nomade tribes of the north ; though 
nothing historical can be thence deduced. 

The ritual olservances of the religion of Ormuzd import 
that men should conduct themselves in harmony with the 
Kingdom of Light. The great general commandment is 
therefore, as already said, spiritual and corporeal purity, con- 
sisting in many prayers to Ormuzd. It was made specially 
obligatory upon the Persians, to maintain living existences, — 
to plant trees — to dig wells — to fertilize deserts ; in order 
that Life, the Positive, the Pure might be furthered, and 
the dominion of Ormuzd be universally extended. External 
purity is contravened by touching a dead animal, and there 



SECT. III. PERSIA — THE ZEND PEOPLE. 189 

are many directions for being purified from such pollution. 
Herodotus relates of Cyrus, that when he went against 
Babylon, and the river Gyndes engulfed one of the horses of 
the Chariot of the Sun, he was occupied for a year in punish- 
ing it, by diverting its stream into small canals, to deprive 
it of its power. Thus Xerxes, when the sea broke in pieces 
his bridges, had chains laid upon it as the wicked and 
pernicious being — Ahriman. 



CHAPTEE II. 



THE ASSYRIANS. BABYLONIANS, MEDES AND PERSIANS. 

As the Zend Eace was the higher spiritual element of the 
Persian Empire, so in Assyria and Babylonia we have the 
element of external wealth, luxury and commerce. Tradi- 
tions respecting them ascend to the remotest periods of 
History ; but in themselves they are obscure, and partly 
contradictory ; and this contradiction is the less easy to be 
cleared up, as they have no canonical books or indigenous 
works. The Grreek historian Ctesias is said to have had 
direct access to the archives of the Persian Kings ; yet we 
have only a few fragments remaining. Herodotus gives us 
much information ; the accounts in the Bible are also valuable 
and remarkable in the highest degree, for the Hebrews were 
immediately connected with the Babylonians. In regard to 
the Persians, special mention must be made of the Epic, 
" Shah-nameh," by Eerdousi, — a heroic poem in 60,000 
strophes, from which Gbrres has given a copious extract. 
Eerdousi lived at the beginning of the eleventh century 
A. D. at the court of Mahmoud the Great, at Ghasna, east 
of Cabul and Candahar. The celebrated Epic just mentioned 
has the old heroic traditions of Iran (that is of "West Persia 
proper) for its subject ; but it has not the value of a historical 
authority, since its contents are poetical and its author a 
Mahometan. The contest of Iran and Turan is described 
in this heroic poem. Iran is Persia Proper— the Mountain 
Land on the south of the Oxus ; Turan denotes the plains of 
the Oxus and those lying between it and the ancient 



190 PART I. I HE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

Jaxartes. A hero, Eustan, plays the principal part in the 
poem ; but its narrations are either altogether fabulous, o! 
quite distorted. Mention is made of Alexander, and he i| 
called Ishkander or Scander of Boum. Eoum means th<i 
Turkish Empire (even now one of its provinces is callea 
Koumelia), but it denotes also the Homan ; and in the poen; 
Alexander's Empire has equally the appellation Eoura. 
Confusions of this kind are quite of a piece with the Mahome- 
tan views. It is related in the poem, that the King of Iran 
made war on Philip, and that this latter was beaten. The 
King then demanded Philip's daughter as a wife ; but after 
he had lived a long time with her, he sent her away be- 
cause her breath was disagreeable. On returning to her 
father, she gave birth to a son — Skander, who hastened to 
Iran to take possession of the throne after the death of his 
father. Add to the above that in the whole of the poem no 
personage or narrative occurs that can be connected with 
Cyrus, and we have sufficient data for estimating its histori- 
cal value. It has a value for us, however, so far as Ferdousi 
therein exhibits the spirit of his time, and the character and 
interest of Modern Persian views. 

As regards Assyria, we must observe, that it is a rather 
indeterminate designation. Assyria Proper is a part of 
Mesopotamia, to the north of Babylon. As chief towns of 
this Empire are mentioned, Atur or Assur on the Tigris, and 
of later origin Nineveh, said to have been founded and built 
by Ninus, the Founder of the Assyrian Empire. In those 
times one City constituted the whole Empire, — Nineveh for 
example : so also Ecbatana in Media, which is said to have 
had seven walls, between whose enclosures agriculture was 
carried on ; and within whose innermost wall was the palace 
of the ruler. Thus too, Nineveh, according to Diodorus, 
was 480 Stadia (about 12 German miles — [55 English]) 
in circumference. On the walls, which were 100 feet high, 
were fifteen hundred towers, within which a vast mass of 
people resided. Babylon included an equally immense popu- 
lation. These cities arose in consequence of a twofold 
necessity, — on the one hand that of giving up the nomade 
life and pursuing agriculture, handicrafts and trade in a 
fixed abode ; and on the other hand of gaining protection 
against the roving mountain peoples, and the predatory 



BECT. III. PERSIA — THE ASSTEIAITS, BABYLONIANS, &0. 191 

Arabs. Older traditions indicate that this entire valley dis- 
trict was traversed by Nomades, and that this mode of life 
gave way before that of the cities. Thus Abraham wan- 
dered forth with his family from Mesopotamia westwards, 
into mountainous Palestine. Even at this day the country 
round Bagdad is thus infested by roving Nomades. Nineveh 
is said to have been built 2050 years b. C; consequently 
the founding of the Assyrian Kingdom is of no later date. 
Ninus reduced under his sway also Babylonia, Media 
and Bactriana ; the conquest of which latter country is 
particularly extolled as having displayed the greatest 
energy ; for Ctesias reckons the number of troops that ac- 
companied Ninus, at 1,700,000 infantry and a proportionate 
number of cavalry. Bactra was besieged for a very consider- 
able time, and its conquest is ascribed to Semiramis ; who 
with a valiant host is said to have ascended the steep acclivity 
of a mountain. The personality of Semiramis wavers be- 
tween mythological and historical representations. To her 
is ascribed the building of the Tower of Babel, respecting 
which we have in the Bible one of the oldest of traditions. — 
Babylon lay to the south, on the Euphrates, in a plain of 
great fertility and well adapted for agriculture. On the 
Euphrates and the Tigris there was considerable navigation. 
Vessels came partly from Armenia, partly from the South, to 
Babylon, and conveyed thither an immense amount of mate- 
rial wealth. The land round Babylon was intersected by innu- 
merable canals ; more for purposes of agriculture — to irri- 
gate the soil and to obviate inundations — than for navigation. 
The magnificent buildings of Semiramis in Babylon itself 
are celebrated ; though how much of the city is to be 
ascribed to the more ancient period, is undetermined and 
uncertain. It is said that Babylon formed a square, bisected 
by the Euphrates. On one side of the stream was the tem- 
ple of Bel, on the other the great palaces of the monarchs. 
The city is reputed to have had a hundred brazen {i.e. copper) 
gates, its walls being 100 feet high, and thick in proportion, 
defended by two hundred and fifty towers. The thorough- 
fares in the city which led towards the river were closed 
every night by brazen doors. Ker Porter^ an Englishman, 
about twelve years ago (his whole tour occupied from 1817 
to 1820) traversed the countries where ancient Babylon lay : 



192 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

on an elevation he thought he could discover remains still 
existing of the old tower of Babel ; and supposed that he had 
found traces of the numerous roads that wound around the 
tower, and in whose loftiest story the image of Bel was set 
up. There are besides many hills with remains of ancient 
structures. The bricks correspond with the description 
in the Biblical record of the building of the tower. A 
vast plain is covered by an innumerable multitude of such 
bricks, although for many thousand years the practice of 
removing them has been continued ; and the entire town of 
Hila, which lies in the vicinity of the ancient Babylon, has 
been built with them. Herodotus relates some remarkable 
facts in the customs of the Babylonians, which appear to 
shew that they were people living peaceably and neighbourly 
with each other. When any one in Babylon fell ill, he was 
brought to some open place, that every passer by might have 
the opportunity of giving him his advice. Marriageable 
daughters were disposed of by auction, and the high price 
offered for a belle was allotted as a dowry for her plainer 
neighbour. Such an arrangement was not deemed inconsist- 
ent with the obligation under which every woman lay of 
prostituting herself once in her life in the temple of Mylitta. 
It is difficult to discover what connection this had with their 
religious ideas. This excepted, according to Herodotus's ac- 
count, immorality invaded Babylon only at a later period, when 
the people became poorer. The fact that the fairer portion of 
the sex furnished dowries for their less attractive sisters, 
seems to confirm his testimony so far as it shews a provident 
care for all ; while that bringing of the sick into the public 
places indicates a certain neighbourly feeling. 

We must here mention the Medes also. They were, like 
the Persians, a mountain-people, whose habitations were 
south and south-west of the Caspian Sea and stretched as 
far as Armenia. Among these Medes the Magi are also 
noticed as one of the six tribes that formed the Median 
people, whose chief characteristics were fierceness, barbar- 
ism, and warlike courage. The capital Ecbatana was built 
by Dejoces, not earlier. He is said to have united under his 
kingly rule the tribes of the Medes, after they had made 
themselves free a second time from Assyrian supremacy, 
and to have induced them to build and to fortify for him a 



SECT. III. PEESIA — THE ASSTEIANS, BABTLOIflANS, &C. 193 

palace befitting his dignity. As to the religion of the Medes, 
the G-reeks call all the oriental Priests, Magi, which is there- 
fore a perfectly indefinite name. But all the data point to 
the fact that among the Magi we may look for a compara- 
tively close connection with the Zend religion ; but that, 
although the Magi preserved and extended it, it experienced 
great modifications in transmission to the various peoples who 
adopted it. Xenophon says, that Cyrus was the first that 
sacrificed to Grod according to the fashion of the Magi. 
The Medes therefore acted as a medium for propagating the 
Zend Eeligion. 

The Assyrian-Babylonian Empire, which held so many 
peoples in subjection, is said to have existed for one thou- 
sand or fifteen hundred years. The last ruler was Sardana- 
palus, — a great voluptuary, according to the descriptions we 
have of him. Arbaces, the Satrap of Media, excited the 
other satraps against him ; and in combination with them, 
led the troops which assembled every year at Nineveh to pay 
the tribute, against Sardanapalus. The latter, although he 
had gained many victories, was at last compelled to yield 
before overwhelming force, and to shut himself up in Nineveh ; 
and, when he could not longer offer resistance, to burn him- 
self there with all his treasure. According to some chrono- 
logists, this took place 888 years b. c. ; according to others, 
at the end of the seventh century. After this catastrophe the 
empire was entirely broken up : it was divided into an Assy- 
rian, a Median, and a Babylonian Empire, to which also 
belonged the Chaldeans, — a mountain people from the north 
which had united with the Babylonians. These several 
Empires had in their turn various fortunes ; though here we 
meet with a confusion in the accounts which has never 
been cleared up. Within this period of their existence 
begins their connection with the Jews and Egyptians. The 
Jewish people succumbed to superior force ; the Jews were 
carried captive to Babylon, and from them we have accurate 
information respecting the condition of this Empire. Ac- 
cording to Daniel's statements there existed in Babylon a 
carefufly appointed organization for government business. 
He speaks of Magians,— from whom the expounders of sacred 
writings, the soothsayers, astrologers, "Wise Men and 
Chaldeans who interpreted dreams, are distinguished. The 



Id4i PAET I. THE- ORIENTAL WOELD. 

Proptets generally say much of the great commerce of 
Babylon ; but they also draw a terrible picture of the prevail- 
ing depravity of manners. 

The real culmination of the Persian Empire is to be 
looked for in connection with the Persian people properly 
so called, which, embracing in its rule all Anterior Asia, 
came into contact with the Greeks. The Persians are 
found in extremely close and early connection with the 
Medes ; and the transmission of the sovereignty to the Per- 
sians makes no essential difference ; for Cyrus was himself a 
relation of the Median King, and the names of Persia and 
Media melt into one. At the head of the Persians and 
Medes, Cyrus made war upon Lydia and its king Croesus. 
Herodotus relates that there had been wars before that time 
between Lydia and Media, but which had been settled by 
the intervention of the King of Babylon. "We recognize here 
a system of States, consisting of Lydia, Media, and Babylon. 
The latter had become predominant and had extended its 
dominion to the Mediterranean Sea. Lydia stretched east- 
ward as far as the Halys ; and the border of the western 
coast of Asia Minor, the fair Grreek colonies, were subject 
to it ; a high degree of culture was thus already present 
in the Lydian Empire. Art and poetry were bloommg there 
as cultivated by the Greeks. These colonies also were sub- 
jected to Persia. Wise men, such as Bias, and still earlier, 
Thales, advised them to unite themselves in a firm league, 
or to quit their cities and possessions, and to seek out for 
themselves other habitations ; (Bias meant Sardinia.) But 
such a union could not be realized among cities which were 
animated by the bitterest jealousy of each other, and who 
lived in continual quarrel : while in the intoxication of afflu- 
ence they were not capable of forming the heroic resolve to 
leave their homes for the sake of freedom. Only when they 
were on the very point of being subjugated by the Persians, 
did some cities give up certain for prospective possessions, 
in their aspiration after the highest good — Liberty. Herodo- 
tus says of the war against the Lydians, that it made the 
Persians who were previously poor and barbarous, acquainted 
for the first time with the luxuries of life and civilization. 
After the Lydian conquest Cyrus subjugated Babylon. 
With it he came into possession of Syria and Palestine ; 



SECT. III. PERSIA— THE EMPIRE AND ITS PROVINCES. 195 

freed the Jews from captivity, and allowed them to rebuild 
their temple. Lastly, he led an expedition against the 
Massagetae ; engaged with them in the steppes between the 
Oxus and the Jaxartes ; but sustained a defeat, and died 
the death of a warrior and conqueror. The death of heroes 
who have formed an epoch in the History of the World, is 
stamped with the character of their mission. Cyrus thus 
died in his mission, which was the union of Anterior Asia 
into one sovereignty without an ulterior object. 



CHAPTEE III. 
THE PERSIAN EMPIRE AND ITS CONSTITUENT PARTS. 

The Persian Empire is an Empire in the modern sense, — 
like that which existed in Grermany, and the great imperial 
realm under the sway of Napoleon ; for we find it consisting 
of a number of states, which are indeed dependent, but 
which have retained their own individuality, their manners, 
and laws. The general enactments, binding upon all, did 
not infringe upon their political and social idiosyncrasies, 
but even protected and maintained them ; so that each of 
the nations that constitute the whole, had its own form of 
Constitution. As Light illuminates everything — imparting 
to each object a peculiar vitality — so the Persian Empire 
extends over a multitude of nations, and leaves to each one its 
particular character. Some have even kings of their own ; 
each one its distinct language, arms, way of life, and customs. 
All this diversity coexists harmoniously under the impartial 
dominion of Light. The Persian Empire comprehends all the 
three geographical elements, which we classified as distinct. 
Eirst, the Uplands of Persia and Media ; next, the Valley- 
plains of the Euphrates and Tigris, whose inhabitants are 
found united in a developed form of civilization, with Egypt — 
the Valley-plain of the Nile — where agriculture, industrial 
arts, and sciences flourished ; and lastly a third element, viz. 
the nations who encounter the perils of the sea, — the Syrians^ 

o2 



196 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

the Phoenicians, the inhabitants of the Greek colonies and 
Greek Maritime States in Asia Minor. Persia thus united 
in itself the three natural principles, while China and India 
remained foreign to the sea. We find here neither that con- 
solidated totahty which China presents, nor that Hindoo life, 
in which an anarchy of caprice is prevalent everywhere. In 
Persia, the government, though joining all in a central unity, 
is but a combination of peoples — leaving each of them free. 
Thereby a stop is put to that barbarism and ferocity with 
which the nations had been wont to carry on their destructive 
feuds, and which the Book of Kings and the Book of Samuel 
sufficiently attest. The lamentations of the Prophets and 
their imprecations upon the state of things before the con- 
quest, shew the misery, wickedness and disorder that prevailed 
among them, and the happiness which Cyrus diflused over 
the region of Anterior Asia. It was not given to the Asiatics 
to unite self-dependence, freedom and substantial vigour of 
mind, with culture, i.e, an interest for diverse pursuits and an 
acquaintance with the conveniences of life. Military valour 
among them is consistent only with barbarity of manners. It 
is not the calm courage of order ; and when their mind opens 
to a sympathy with various interests, it immediately passes 
into effeminacy ; allows its energies to sink, and makes men 
the slaves of an enervated sensuality. 



PEESIA. 



The Persians,— a free mountain and nomade people — 
though ruling over richer, more civilized and fertile lands, — 
retained on the whole the fundamental characteristics of their 
ancient mode of life. They stood with one foot on their 
ancestral territory, with the other on their foreign conquests. 
In his ancestral land the King was a friend among friends, and 
as if surrounded by equals. Outside of it, he was the lord to 
whom all were subject, and bound to acknowledge their depen- 
dence by the payment of tribute. Paithful to the Zend religion, 
the Persians give themselves to the pursuit of piety and the 
pure worship of Ormuzd. The tombs of the Kings were in 



SECT. III. PEESIA— THE EMPIBE AND ITS PEOVINCES. 197 

Persia Proper ; and there the King sometimes visited his 
countrymen, with whom he lived in relations of the greatest 
simplicity. He brought with him presents for them, while 
all other nations were obliged to make presents to him. 
At the court of the monarch there was a division of Persian 
cavalry which constituted the elite of the whole army, ate 
at a common table, and were subject to a most perfect disci- 
pline in every respect. They made themselves illustrious by 
their bravery, and even the Greeks awarded a tribute of 
respect to their valour in the Median wars. When the en- 
tire Persian host, to which this division belonged, was to 
engage in an expedition, a summons was first issued to all 
the Asiatic populations. When the warriors were assem- 
bled, the expedition was undertaken with that character of 
restlessness, that nomadic disposition which formed the idio- 
syncrasy of the Persians. Thus they invaded Egypt, Scythia, 
Thrace, and at last Greece ; where their vast power was des- 
tined to be shattered. A march of this kind looked almost 
like an emigration : their families accompanied them. Each 
people exhibited its national features and warlike accoutre- 
ments, and poured forth en masse. Each had its own order 
of march and mode of warfare. Herodotus sketches for us 
a brilliant picture of this variety of aspect as it presented 
itself in the vast march of nations under Xerxes (two millions 
of human beings are said to have accompanied him.) Yet, as 
these peoples were so unequally disciplined — so diverse in 
strength and bravery — it is easy to understand how the 
small but well-trained armies of the Greeks, animated by the 
same spirit, and under matchless leadership, could withstand 
those innumerable but disorderly hosts of the Persians. 
The provinces had to provide for the support of the Persian 
cavalry, which were quartered in the centre of the kingdom. 
Babylon had to contribute the third part of the supplies in 
question, and consequently appears to have been by far the 
richest district. As regards other branches of revenue, each 
people was obliged to supply the choicest of the peculiar 
produce which the district afforded. Thus Arabia gave frank- 
incense, Syria purple, &c. 

The education of the princes — but especially that of the 
heir to the throne — was conducted with extreme care. Till 
their seventh year the sons of the King remained among 



198 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WOELD. 

the women, and did not come into the royal presence. 
From their seventh year forward they were instructed in 
hunting, riding, shooting with the bow, and also in speaking 
the truth. There is one statement to the effect that the 
prince received instruction in the Magian lore of Zoroaster. 
Four of the noblest Persians conducted the prince's educa- 
tion. The magnates of the land, at large, constituted a kind 
of Diet. Among them Magi were also found. They are 
depicted as free men, animated by a noble fidelity and pa- 
triotism. Of such character seem the seven nobles — the 
counterpart of the Amshaspand who stand around Ormuzd — 
when after the unmasking of the false Smerdis, who on the 
death of King Cambyses gave himself out as his brother, 
they assembled to deliberate on the most desirable form of 
government. Quite free from passion, and without exhibit- 
ing any ambition, they agree that monarchy is the only form 
of government adapted to the Persian Empire. The Sun, 
and the horse which first salutes them with a neigh, decide 
the succession in favour of Darius. The magnitude of the 
Persian dominion occasioned the government of the provinces 
by viceroys — Satraps ; and these often acted very arbitrarily 
to the provinces subjected to their rule, and displayed hatred 
and envy towards each other ; a source of much evil. These 
satraps were only superior presidents of the provinces, and 
generally left the subject kings of the countries in possession 
of regal privileges. All the land and all the water belonged 
to the Great King of the Persians. "Land and Water'* 
were the demands of Darius Hystaspes and Xerxes from the 
Greeks. But the King was only the abstract sovereign : 
the enjoyment of the country remained to the nations them- 
selves ; whose obligations were comprised in the maintenance 
of the court and the satraps, and the contribution of the 
choicest part of their property. Uniform taxes first make 
their appearance under the government of Darius Hystaspes. 
On the occasion of a royal progress the districts of the em- 
pire visited had to give presents to the King ; and from the 
amount of these gifts we may infer the wealth of the unex- 
hausted provinces. Thus the dominion of the Persians 
was by no means oppressive, either in secular or religious 
respects. The Persians, according to Herodotus, had no 
idols — -in fact ridiculed anthropomorphic representations of 



SECT. III. PEESIA — SYRIA, PHCENIOIA, ETC. 191 

the gods ; but they tolerated every religion, although there 
may be found expressions of wrath against idolatry. Greek 
temples were destroyed, and the images of the gods broken 
in pieces. 



SYRIA AND THE SEMITIC WESTERN ASIA. 

One element — the coast territory — which also belonged 
to the Persian Empire, is especially represented by Syria. 
It was peculiarly important to the Persian Empire ; for 
when Continental Persia set out on one of its great expe* 
ditions, it was accompanied by Phoenician as well as by 
Greek navies. The Phoenician coast is but a very narrow 
border, — often only two leagues broad, — which has the high 
mountains of Lebanon on the East. On the sea-coast lay a 
series of noble and rich cities, as Tyre, Sidon, Byblus, 
Berytus, carrying on great trade and commerce ; which last, 
however, was too isolated and confined to that particular 
country, to allow it to affect the whole Persian state. Their 
commerce lay chiefly in the direction of the Mediterranean 
sea, and it reached thence far into the West. Through 
its intercourse with so many nations, Syria soon attained a 
high degree of culture. There the most beautiful fabrications 
in metals and precious stones were prepared, and there the 
most important discoveries, e.g. of Glass and of Purple, were 
made. Written language there received its first development, 
for in their intercourse with various nations, the need of it 
was soon felt. (So, to quote another example, Lord Macart- 
ney observes that in Canton itself, the Chinese had felt and 
expressed the need of a more pliable written language.) The 
Phoenicians discovered and first navigated the Atlantic 
Ocean. They had settlements in Cyprus and Crete. In the 
remote island of Thasos, they worked gold mines. In the 
south and south-west of Spain they opened silver mines. In 
Africa they founded the colonies of Utica and Carthage. 
From Gades they sailed far down the African coast, and ac- 
cording to some, even circumnavigated Africa. Prom Britain 
they brought tin, and from the Baltic, Prussian amber. 



200 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

This opens to us an entirely new principle. Inactivity 
ceases, as also mere rude valour ; in their place appears the 
activity of Industry, and that considerate courage which, 
while it dares the perils of the deep, rationally bethinks 
itself of the means of safety. Here everything depends on 
Man's activity, his courage, his intelligence; while the 
objects aimed at are also pursued in the interest of Man. 
Human will and activity here occupy the foreground, not 
Nature and its bounty. Babylonia had its determinate 
share of territory, and human subsistence was there depen 
dent on the course of the sun and the process of Nature 
generally. But the sailor relies upon himself amid the fluc- 
tuations of the waves, and eye and heart must be always 
open. In like manner the principle of Industry involves the 
very opposite of what is received from Nature ; for natural 
objects are worked up for use and ornament. In Industry 
Man is an object to himself, and treats Nature as something 
subject to him, on which he impresses the seal of his activity. 
Intelligence i^ the valour needed here, and ingenuity ia 
better than mere natural courage. At this point we see 
the nations freed from the fear of Nature and its slavish 
bondage. 

If we compare their religious ideas with the above, we 
shall see in Babylon, in the Syrian tribes, and in Phrygitty 
first a rude, vulgar, sensual idolatry, — a description of which 
in its principal features is given in the Prophets. Nothing 
indeed more specific than idolatry is mentioned ; and this is 
an indefinite term. The Chinese, the Hindoos, the Greeks, 
practise idolatry; the Catholics, too, adore the images of 
saints ; but in the sphere of thought with which we are at 
present occupied, it is the powers of Nature and of pro- 
duction generally that constitute the object of veneration ; 
and the worship is luxury and pleasure. The Prophets give 
the most terrible pictures of this, — though their repulsive 
character must be partly laid to the account of the hatred 
of Jews against neighbouring peoples. Such representations 
are particularly ample in the Book of Wisdom. Not only 
was there a worship of natural objects, but also of the 
Universal Power of Nature — Astarte, Cybele, Diana of 
Ephesus. The worship paid was a sensuous intoxication, 
excess, and revelry: sensuaHty and cruelty are its two 



SECT. III. PERSIA— STRIA, PHCBNICIA, ETC. 201 

characteristic traits. " "When they keep their holy days they 
act as if mad," ["they are mad when they be merry," — 
English Version] says the Book of Wisdom (xiv. 28). With 
a merely sensuous life — this being a form of consciousness 
which does not attain to general conceptions — cruelty is 
connected; because Nature itself is the Highest, so that Man 
has no value, or only the most trifling. Moreover, the genius 
of such a polytheism involves the destruction of its conscious- 
ness on the part of Spirit in striving to identify itself with 
Nature, and the annihilation of the Spiritual generally. 
Thus we see children sacrificed — priests of Cybele subject- 
ing themselves to mutilation — men making themselves eu- 
nuchs — women prostituting themselves in the temple. As 
a feature of the court of Babylon it deserves to be remarked, 
that when Daniel was brought up there, it was not required 
of him to take part in the religious observances ; and more- 
over that food ceremonially pure was allowed him ; that he 
was in requisition especially for interpreting the dreams of 
the King, because he had "the spirit of the holy gods." 
The King proposes to elevate himself above sensuous life by 
dreams, as indications from a superior power. It is thus 
generally evident, that the bond of religion was lax, and 
that here no unity is to be found. Eor we observe also 
adorations offered to images of hings ; the power of Nature 
and the King as a spiritual Power, are the Highest ; so that 
in this form of idolatry there is manifested a perfect contrast 
to the Persian purity. 

We find on the other hand something quite different 
among the Phcenicians, that bold seafaring people. Hero- 
dotus tells us, that at Tyre Hercules was worshipped. If 
the divinity in question is not absolutely identical with the 
Grreek demigod, there must be understood by that name one 
whose attributes nearly agree with his. This worship is 
particularly indicative of the character of the people ; for it 
is Hercules of whom the Grreeks say, that he raised himself 
to Olympus by dint of human courage and daring. The 
idea of the Sun perhaps originated that of Hercules as en- 
gaged in his twelve labours ; but this basis does not give us 
the chief feature of the myth, which is, that Hercules is that 
scion of the gods who, by his virtue and exertion, made him- 
self a god by human spirit and valour ; and who, instead of 



202 PART I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

passing his life in idleness, spends it in hardship and toil. 
A second religious element is the worship of Adonis, which 
takes place in the towns of the coast, (it was celebrated in 
Egypt also by the Ptolemies) ; and respecting which we find 
a notable passage in the Book of Wisdom (xiv. 13, &c.), 
where it is said : ** The idols were not from the beginning, — 
but were invented through the vain ambition of men, be- 
cause the latter are short-lived. Tor a father afflicted with 
untimely mourning, when he had made an image of his 
child (Adonis) early taken away, honoured him as a god, 
who was a dead man, and delivered to those that were under 
him ceremonies and sacrifices " (E. Y. nearly.) The feast of 
Adonis was very similar to the worship of Osiris — the com- 
memoration of his death ; — a funeral festival, at which the 
women broke out into the most extravagant lamentations 
over the departed god. In India lamentation is suppressed 
in the heroism of insensibility ; uncomplaining, the women 
there plunge into the river, and the men, ingenious in in- 
venting penances, impose upon themselves the direst tortures ; 
for they give themselves up to the loss of vitality, in order 
to destroy consciousness in empty abstract contemplation. 
Here, on the contrary, human pain becomes an element of 
worship ; in pain man realizes his subjectivity : it is ex- 
pected of him, — he may here indulge self-consciousness and 
the feeling of actual existence. Life here regains its value. 
A universality of pain is established: for death becomes 
immanent in the Divine, and the deity dies. Among the 
Persians we saw Light and Darkness struggling with each 
other, but here both principles are united in one— the Abso- 
lute. The Negative is here, too, the merely Natural ; but 
as the death of a gody it is not a limitation attaching to an 
individual object, but is pure Negativity itself. And this 
point is important, because the generic conception that has 
to be formed of Deity is Spirit ; which involves its being 
concrete, and having in it the element of negativity. The 
qualities of wisdom and power are also concrete qualities, 
but only as predicates ; so that God remains abstract sub- 
stantial unity, in which difierences themselves vanish, and 
do not become organic elements (Momente) of this unity. 
But here the Negative itself is a phase of Deity, — the 
Natural — Death; — the worship appropriate to which is 



SECT. III. PERSIA — JUD^A. 203 

grief. It is in the celebration of the death of Adonis, and 
of his resurrection, that the concrete is made conscious. 
Adonis is a youth, who is torn from his parents by a too early 
death. In China, in the worship of ancestors, these latter 
enjoy divine honour. But parents in their decease only pay 
the debt of Nature. "When a youth is snatched away by 
death, the occurrence is regarded as contrary to the proper 
order of things ; and while affliction at the death of parents 
is no just affliction, in the case of youth death is a paradox. 
And this is the deeper element in the conception, — that in 
the Divinity, Negativity— Antithesis — is manifested; and 
that the worship rendered to him involves both elements — 
the pain felt for the divinity snatched away, and the joy 
occasioned by his being found again. 



JUD^A. 

The next people belonging to the Persian empire, in that 
wide circle of nationalities which it comprises, is the Jewish. 
We find here, too, a canonical book — the Old Testament ; in 
which the views of this people —whose principle is the exact 
opposite of the one just described — are exhibited. "While 
amoDg the Phoenician people the Spiritual was still limited 
by Nature, in the case of the Jews we find it entirely puri- 
fied ;— the pure product of Thought. Self-conception appears 
in the field of consciousness, and the Spiritual develops 
iteelf in sharp contrast to Nature and to union with it. It 
is true that we observed at an earlier stage the pure concep- 
tion " Brahm ;" but only as the universal being of Nature ; 
and with this limitation, that Brahm is not himself an object 
of consciousness. Among the Persians we saw this abstract 
being become an object for consciousness, but it was 
that of sensuous intuition, — as Light. But the idea of Light 
has at this stage advanced to that of " Jehovah '*— the purely 
One. This forms the point of separation between the East 
and the "West ; Spirit descends into the depths of its own 
being, and recognizes the abstract fundamental principle as 
the Spiritual. Nature, — which in the East is the primaiy and 
ftmdamental existence,— is now depressed to the condition ol 



204 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOELD. 

a mere creature ; and Spirit now occupies the first place 
God is known as the creator of all men, as he is of all 
nature, and as absolute causality generally. But this great 
principle, as further conditioned, is exclusive Unity. This 
religion must necessarily possess the element of exclusive- 
ness, which consists essentially in this, — that only the One 
People which adopts it, recognizes the One God, and is ac- 
knowledged by him. The God of the Jewish People is the 
God only of Abraham and of his seed: National indi- 
viduality and a special local worship are involved in such a 
conception of deity. Before him all other gods are false : 
moreover the distinction between "true" and "false" is 
quite abstract ; for as regards the false gods, not a ray of 
the Divine is supposed to shine into them. But every form 
of spiritual force, and a fortiori every religion is of such a 
nature, that whatever be its peculiar character, an affirma- 
tive element is necessarily contained in it. However 
erroneous a religion may be, it possesses truth, although in 
a mutilated phase. In every religion there is a divine pre- 
sence, a divine relation ; and a philosophy of History has to 
seek* out the spiritual element even in the most imperfect 
forms. But it does not follow that because it is a religion, 
it is therefore good. We must not fall into the lax con- • 
ception, that the content is of no importance, but only the 
form. This latitudinarian tolerance the Jewish religion 
does not admit, being absolutely exclusive. 

The Spiritual speaks itself here absolutely free of the Sen- 
suous, and Nature is reduced to something merely external 
and undivine. This is the true and proper estimate of 
Nature at this stage ; for only at a more advanced phase 
can the Idea attain a reconciliation [recognize itself] in this 
its alien form. Its first utterances will be in opposition to 
Nature; for Spirit, which had been hitherto dishonoured, 
now first attains its due dignity, while Nature resumes its 
proper position. Nature is conceived as having the ground 
of its existence in another, — as something posited, created ; 
and this idea, that God is the lord and creator of Nature, 
leads men to regard God as the Exalted One, while the 
whole of Nature is only his robe of glory, and is expended 
in his service. In contrast with this kind of exaltation, that 
which the Hindoo religion presents is only that of indefini- 



SECT. III. PERSIA— JUD^A. 205 

tude. In virtue of tlie prevailing spirituality tlie Sensuoua 
and Immoral are no longer privileged, but disparaged as un- 
godliness. Only the One — Spirit— the Non-sensuous is the 
Truth ; Thought exists free for itself, and true morality and 
righteousness can now make their appearance ; for Ood is 
honoured by righteousness, and right-doing is " walking in 
the way of the Lord." "With this is conjoined happiness, 
life and temporal prosperity as its reward ; for it is said : 
*' that thou mayest live long in the land." — Here too also we 
have the possibility of a historical view; for the understanding 
has become prosaic ; putting the limited and circumscribed 
in its proper place, and comprehending it as the form proper 
to finite existence : Men are regarded as individuals, not as 
incarnations of Grod ; Sun as Sun, Mountains as Moun- 
tains, — not as possessing Spirit and Will. 

We observe among this people a severe religious ceremo- 
nial, expressing a relation to pure Thought. The individual 
as concrete does not become free, because the Absolute itself 
is not comprehended as concrete Spirit ; since Spirit still 
appears posited as non-spiritual — destitute of its proper 
characteristics. It is true that subjective feeling is manifest, 
— the pure heart, repentance, devotion ; but the particular 
concrete individuality has not become objective to itself in 
the Absolute. It therefore remains closely bound to the 
observance of ceremonies and of the Law, the basis of which 
latter is pure freedom in its abstract form. The Jews 
possess that which makes them what they are, through the 
One : consequently the individual has no freedom for itself. 
Spinoza regards the code of Moses as having been given by 
God to the Jews for a punishment — a rod of correction. 
The individual never comes to the consciousness of inde- 
pendence ; on that account we do not find among the Jews 
any belief in the immortality of the soul ; for individuality 
does not exist in and for itself. But though in Judaism the 
Individual is not respected, the Family has inherent value ; 
for the worship of Jehovah is attached to the Family, and 
it is consequently viewed as a substantial existence. But 
the State is an institution not consonant with the Judaistic 
principle, and it is alien to the legislation of Moses. In the 
idea of the Jews, Jehovah is the Grod of Abraham, of Isaac, 
and Jacob ; who commanded them to depart out of Egypt, 



206 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOULD. 

and gave them the land of Canaan. The accounts of the 
Patriarchs attract our interest. "We see in this history the 
transition from the patriarchal nomade condition to agri- 
culture. On the whole the Jewish history exhibits grand 
features of character ; but it is disfigured by an exclusive 
bearing (sanctionedinits religion,) towards the genius of other 
nations, (the destruction of the iuhabitants of Canaan being 
even commanded), — by want of culture generally, and by the 
superstition arising from the idea of the high value of their 
peculiar nationality. Miracles, too, form a disturbing feature 
in this history — as history ; for as far as concrete conscious- 
ness is not free, concrete perception is also not free ; Nature 
is undeified, but not yet understood. 

The Family became a great nation ; through the conquest 
of Canaan, it took a whole country into possession ; and 
erected a Temple for the entire people, in Jerusalem. But 
properly speaking no political union existed. In case of 
national danger heroes arose, who placed themselves at the 
head of the armies ; though the nation during this period was 
for the most part in subjection. Later on, kings were chosen, 
and it was they who first rendered the Jews independent. 
David even made conquests. Originally the legislation is 
adapted to a family only ; yet in the books of Moses the wish 
for a king is anticipated. The priests are to choose him : he 
is not to be a foreigner, — not to have horsemen in large 
numbers, — and he is to have few wives. After a short period 
of glory the kingdom suffered internal disruption and was 
divided. As there was only one tribe of Levites and one 
Temple, — i.e. in Jerusalem, —idolatry w^as immediately intro- 
duced. The One Grod could not be honoured in different 
Temples, and there could not be two kingdoms attached to 
one religion. However spiritual may be the conception of 
Grod as objective, the subjective side — the honour rendered to 
him— is still very limited and unspiritual in character. The 
two kingdoms, equally infelicitous in foreign and domestic 
warfare, were at last subjected to the Assyrians and Babylo- 
nians ; through Cyrus the Israelites obtained permission 
to return home and live according to their own laws. 



BEOT. III. PEESIA — EGYPT. 207 



EGYPT. 



The Persian Empire is one that has passed away, and we 
have nothing but melancholy relics of its glory. Its fairest 
and richest towns — such as Babylon, Susa, Persepolis — are 
razed to the ground ; and only a few ruins mark their ancient 
site. Even in the more modern great cities of Persia, — 
Ispahan and Shiraz, — half of them has become a ruin ; and 
they have not — as is the case with ancient Eome — developed 
a new life, but have lost their place almost entirely in the 
remembrance of the surrounding nations. Besides the other 
lands already enumerated as belonging to the Persian Em- 
pire, Egypt claims notice, — characteristically the Land of 
Euins ; a land which from hoar antiquity has been regarded 
with wonder, and which in recent times also has attracted 
the greatest interest. Its ruins, the final result of immense 
labour, surpass in the gigantic and monstrous, all that anti- 
quity has left us. 

In Egypt we see united the elements which in the Persian 
monarchy appeared singly. We found among the Persians 
the adoration of Light— regarded as the Essence of universal 
Nature. This principle then develops itself in phases which 
hold a position of indifference towards each other. The one 
is the immersion in the sensuous, — among the Babylonians 
and Syrians ; the other is the Spiritual phase, which is two- 
fold: first as the incipient consciousness of the concrete Spirit 
in the worship of Adonis, and then as pure and abstract 
thought among the Jews. In the former the concrete is de- 
ficient in unity; in the latter the concrete is altogether want- 
ing. The next problem is then, to harmonize these contra- 
dictory elements ; and this problem presents itself in Egypt. 
Of the representations which Egyptian Antiquity presents 
us with, one figure must be especially noticed, viz. the Sphinx 
— in itself a riddle — an ambiguous form, half brute, half 
human. The Sphinx may be regarded as a symbol of the 
Egyptian Spirit. The human head looking out from the brute 
body, exhibits Spirit as it begins to emerge from the merely 
Natural — to tear itself loose therefrom and already to look 
more freely around it ; without, however, entirely freeing it- 
self from the fetters Nature had imposed. The innumerable 



208 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WORLD. 

edifices of tlie Egyptians are half below the ground, and half 
rise above it into the air. The whole land is divided into a 
kingdom of life and a kingdom of death. The colossal statue 
of Memnon resounds at the first glance of the young morning 
Sun ; though it is not yet the free light of Spirit with which 
it vibrates. Written language is still a hieroglyphic ; and 
its basis is only the sensuous image, not the letter itself. 

Thus the memorials of Egypt themselves give us a multi- 
tude of forms and images that express its character ; we 
recognize a Spirit in them which feels itself compressed; 
which utters itself, but only in a sensuous mode. 

Egypt was always the Land of Marvels, and has remained 
so to the present day. It is from the Grreeks especially 
that we get information respecting it, and chiefly from 
Herodotus. This intelligent historiographer himself visited 
the country of which he wished to give an account, and at its 
chief towns made acquaintance with the Egyptian priests. 
Of all that he saw and heard, he gives an accurate record ; but 
the deeper symbolism of the Egyptian mythology he has re- 
frained from unfolding. This he regards as something 
sacred, and respecting which he cannot so freely speak as of 
merely external objects. Besides him Diodorus Siculus is 
an authority of great importance ; and among the Jewish 
historians, Josephus. 

In their architecture and hieroglyphics, the thoughts and 
conceptions of the Egyptians are expressed. A national 
work in the department of language is wanting : and that 
not only to us, but to the Egyptians themselves ; they could 
not have any, because they had not advanced to an under- 
standing of themselves. Nor was there any Egyptian his- 
tory, until at last Ptolemy Philadelphus, — he who had the 
sacred books of the Jews translated into Grreek,— prompted 
the High- Priest Manetho to write an Egyptian history. Of 
this we have only extracts, — list of Kings ; which however 
have occasioned the greatest perplexities and contradictory 
views. To become acquainted with Egypt, we must for the 
most part have recourse to the notices of the ancients, and 
the immense monuments that are left us. We find a number 
of granite walls on which hieroglyphics are graved, and the 
ancients have given us explanations of some of them, but 
which are quite insufficient. In recent times attention has es- 



SECT. III. PERSIA — EGYPT. 209 

pecially been recalled to them, and after many efforts some- 
thing at least of the hieroglyphic writing has been deci- 
phered. The celebrated Englishman, Thomas Young, first 
suggested a method of discovery, and called attention to the 
fact, that there are small surfaces separated from the other 
hieroglyphics, and in which a G-reek translation is percepti- 
ble. By comparison Young made out three names — Berenice, 
Cleopatra, and Ptolemy, — and this was the first step in deci- 
phering them. It was found at a later date, that a great part 
of the hieroglyphics are phonetic, that is, express sounds. 
Thus the figure of an eye denotes first the eye itself, but 
secondly the first letter of the Egyptian word that means 
"eye" (as in Hebrew the figure of a house, ^, denotes the 
letter h, with which the word ^'^*'^, House, begins.) The 
celebrated Champollion (the younger), first called attention 
to the fact that the phonetic hieroglyphs are intermingled 
with those which mark conceptions ; and thus classified the 
hieroglyphs and established settled principles for deciphering 
them. 

The History of Egypt, as we have it, is full of the greatest 
contradictions. The Mythical is blended with the Historical, 
and the statements are as diverse as can be imagined. 
European literati have eagerly investigated the lists given 
by Manetho and have relied upon them, and several names of 
kings have been confirmed by the recent discoveries. 
Herodotus says, that according to the statements of the 
priests, gods had formerly reigned over Egypt, and that 
from the first human king down to the King Setho 341 genera- 
tions, or 11,340 years, had passed away ; but that the first 
human ruler was Menes (the resemblance of the name to 
the Greek Minos and the Hindoo Manu is striking). With 
the exception of the Thebaid— its most southern part— Egypt 
was said by them to have formed a lake ; the Delta presents 
reliable evidence of having been produced by the silt of the 
Nile. As the Dutch have gained their territory from the 
sea, and have found means to sustain themselves upon it ; 
so the Egyptians first acquired their country, and main- 
tained its fertility by canals and lakes. An important 
feature in the history of Egypt is its descent from Upper to 
Lower Egypt — from the South to the North. With this is 
connected the consideration that Egypt probably received its 



210 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL "WORLD. 

culture from Ethiopia ; principally from the island Meroe, 
M-hich, according to recent hypotheses, was occupied by a 
sacerdotal people. Thebes in Upper Egypt was the most 
ancient residence of the Egyptian kings. Even in Herodo- 
tus' s time it was in a state of dilapidation. The ruins of 
this city present the most enormous specimens of Egyptian 
architecture that we are acquainted with. Considering 
their antiquity they are remarkably well preserved : which 
is partly OAving to the perpetually cloudless sky. The centre 
of the kingdom was then transferred to Memphis, not far 
from the modern Cairo ; and lastly to Sais, in the Delta 
itself. The structures that occur in the locality of this city 
are of very late date and imperfectly preserved. Herodotus 
tells us that Memphis was referred to so remote a founder 
as Menes. Among the later kings must be especially 
noticed Sesostris, who, according to Champollion, is 
Rhamses the Grreat. To him in particular are referred a 
number of monuments and pictures in which are depicted 
liis triumphal processions, and the captives taken in battle. 
Herodotus speaks of his conquests in Syria, extending even 
to Colchis ; and illustrates his statement by the great simi- 
larity between the manners of the Colchians and those of 
the Egyptians : these two nations and the Ethiopians were 
the only ones that had always practised circumcision. He- 
rodotus says, moreover, that Sesostris had vast canals dug 
through the whole of Egypt, which served to convey the 
water of the Nile to every part. It may be generally re- 
marked that the more provident the government in Egypt 
was, so much the more regard did it pay to the maintenance 
of the canals, while under negligent governments the desert 
got the upper hand ; for Egypt was engaged in a constant 
struo'orle with the fierceness of the heat and with the water 

OO 

of the Nile. It appears from Herodotus, that the country 
had become impassable for cavalry in consequence of the 
canals ; while, on the contrary, we see from the books of 
Moses, how celebrated Egypt once w^as in this respect. 
Moses says that if the Jews desired a king, he must not 
marry too many wives, nor send for horses from Egypt. 

Next to Sesostris the Kings Cheops and Chephren deserve 
special mention. They are said to have built enormous 
pyramids and closed the temples of the priests. A son of 



SECT. III. PERSIA — EGYPT. 211 

Cheops— Mycerinus — is said to have reopened them; after 
him the Ethiopians invaded the country, and their king, 
Sabaco, made himself sovereign of Egypt. But Anysis, the 
successor of Mycerinus, fled into the marshes — to the mouth 
of the Nile ; only after the departure of the Ethiopians did 
he make his appearance again. He was succeeded by Setho, 
who had been a priest of Phtha (supposed to be the same as 
Hephaestus) : under his government, Sennacherib, King of 
the Assyrians, invaded the country. Setho had always 
treated the warrior-caste with great disrespect, and even 
robbed them of their lands ; and when he invoked their 
assistance, they refused it. He was obliged therefore to 
issue a general summons to the Egyptians, and assembled a 
host composed of hucksters, artisans, and market people. 
In the Bible we are told that the enemies fled, and that it 
was the angels who routed them ; but Herodotus relates 
that field-mice came in the night and gnawed the quivers 
and bows of the enemy, so that the latter, depriA^ed of their 
weapons, were compelled to flee. After the death of Setho, 
the Egyptians (Herodotus tells us) regarded themselves as 
free, and chose themselves twelve kings, who formed a 
federal union, — as a symbol of which they built the Laby- 
rinth, consisting of an immense number of rooms and halls, 
above and below ground. In the year 650 B.C. one of these 
kings, Psammitichus, with the help of the lonians and 
Carians (to whom he promised land in Lower Egypt,) ex- 
pelled the eleven other kings. Till that time Egypt had re- 
mained secluded from the rest of the world ; and at sea it 
had established no connection with other nations. Psammi- 
tichus commenced such a connection, and thereby led the way 
to the ruin of Egypt. Erom this point the history becomes 
clearer, because it is based on Greek accounts. Psammi- 
tichus was followed by Necho, who began to dig a canal, 
which was to unite the Nile with the Eed Sea, but which 
was not completed until the reign of Darius Nothus. The 
plan of uniting the Mediterranean Sea with the Arabian 
Gulf, and the wide ocean, is not so advantageous as might 
be supposed ; since in the Eed Sea — which on other accounts 
is very difficult to navigate — there prevails for about nine 
months in the year a constant north wind, so that it is only 
during three months that the passage from south to north is 

p 2 



212 PAET T. THE OEIENTAL TTORLD. 

feasible. Necho was followed bj Psammis, and the latter 
by Apries, who led an army against Sidon, and engaged with 
the Tyrians by sea : against Cyrene also he sent an army, 
which was almost annihilated by the Cyrenians. The 
Egyptians rebelled against him, accusing him of wishing to 
lead them to destruction; but this revolt was probably 
caused by the favour shewn by him to the Carians and 
lonians. Amasis placed himself at the head of the rebels, 
conquered the king, and possessed himself of the throne. 
By Herociotus he is depicted as a humorous monarch, who, 
however, did not always maintain the dignity of the throne. 
Trom a very humble station he had raised himself to royalty 
by ability, astuteness, and intelligence, and he exhibited in 
all other relations the same keen understanding. In the 
morning he held his court of judicature, and listened to the 
complaints of the people ; but in the afternoon, feasted and 
surrendered himself to pleasure. To his friends, who blamed 
him on this account, and told him that he ought to give the 
whole day to business, he made answer: '* If the bow is con- 
stantly on the stretch, it becomes useless or breaks." As 
the Egyptians thought less of him on account of his mean 
descent, he had a golden basin — used for washing the feet — 
made into the image of a god in high honour among the 
Egyptians ; this he meant as a symbol of his own eleva- 
tion. Herodotus relates, moreover, that he indulged in 
excesses as a private man, dissipated the whole of his pro- 
perty, and then betook himself to stealing. This contrast 
of a vulgar soul and a keen intellect is characteristic in an 
Egyptian king. 

Amasis drew down upon him the ill-will of King Cambyses. 
Cyrus desired an oculist from the Egyptians ; for at that 
time the Egyptian oculists were very famous, their skill 
having been called out by the numerous eye-diseases preva- 
lent in Egypt. This oculist, to revenge himself for having 
been sent out of the country, advised Cambyses to ask for 
the daughter of Amasis in marriage ; knowing well that 
Amasis would either be rendered unhappy by giving her 
to him, or on the other hand, incur the wrath of Cam- 
byses by refusing. Amasis would not give his daughter to 
Cambyses, because the latter desired her as an inferior wife 
(for his lawful spouse must be a Persian) ; but sent him, 
under the name of his own daughter, that of Apries, who 



SECT. Ill, PERSIA — EGYPT. 213 

afterwards discovered her real name to Cambyses. The 
latter was so incensed at the deception, that he led an expe- 
dition against Egypt, conquered that country, and united it 
with the Persian Empire. 

As to the Egyptian Spirit, it deserves mention here, that 
the Elians in Herodotus's narrative call the Egyptians the 
wisest of mankind. It also surprises us to find among them, 
in the vicinity of African stupidity, reflective intelligence, 
a thoroughly rational organization characterizing all institu- 
tions, and most astonishing works of art. The Egyptians 
were, like the Hindoos, divided into castes, and the children 
always continued the trade and business of their parents. 
On this account, also, the Mechanical and Technical in the 
arts was so much developed here ; while the hereditary trans- 
mission of occupations did not produce the same disadvan- 
tageous results in the character of the Egyptians as in India. 
Herodotus mentions the seven following castes : the priests, 
the warriors, the neatherds, the swineherds, the merchants (or 
'trading population generally) the interpreters — who seem 
only at a later date to have constituted a separate class — and, 
lastly, the sea- faring class. Agriculturists are not named here, 
probably because agriculture was the occupation of several 
castes, as, e.g., the warriors, to whom a portion of the land 
was given. Diodorus and Strabo give a different account of 
these caste-divisions. Only priests, warriors, herdsmen, agri- 
culturists, and artificers are m entioned, to whi ch latter, perhaps, 
tradesmen also belong. Herodotus says of the priests, that 
they in particular received arable land, and had it cultivated 
for rent ; for the land generally was in the possession of the 
priests, warriors, and kings. Joseph was a minister of the 
king, according to Holy Scripture, and contrived to make 
him master of all landed property. But the several 
occupations did not remain so stereotyped as among the 
Hindoos ; for we find the Israelites, who were originally 
herdsmen, employed also as manual labourers : and there was 
a king — as stated above — who formed an array of manual 
labourers alone. The castes are not rigidly fixed, but 
struggle with and come into contact with one another : we 
often find cases of their being broken up and in a state of 
rebellion. The warrior-caste, at one time discontented on 
account of their not being released from their abodes in the 
direction of Nubia, and desperate at not being able to make 



214 PAET I. THE ORIENTAL WOKLD. 

use of their lauds, betakes itself to Meroe, and foreign mer 
cenaries are introduced into the country. 

Of the onode of life among the Egyptians, Herodotus 
supplies a very detailed account, giving prominence to 
everything which appears to him to deviate from Greek 
manners. Thus the Egyptians had physicians specially de- 
voted to particular diseases ; the women were engaged in 
out-door occupations, while the men remained at home to 
weave. In one part of Egypt polygamy prevailed ; in 
another, monogamy ; the women had but one garment, the 
men two ; they wash and bathe much, and undergo purifica- 
tion every month. All this points to a condition of settled 
peace. As to arrangements of police, the law required that 
every Egyptian should present himself, at a time appointed, 
before the superintendent under whom he lived, and state 
from what resources he obtained his livelihood. If he 
could not refer to any, he was punished with death. This 
law, however, was of no earlier date than Amasis. The 
greatest care, moreover, was observed in the division of the' 
arable land, as also in planning canals and dikes ; under 
Sabaco, the Ethiopian king, says Herodotus, many cities 
were elevated by dikes. 

The business of courts of justice was administered with 
very great care. They consisted of thirty judges nominated 
by the district, and who chose their own president. Pleadings 
were conducted in writing, and proceeded as far as the 
" rejoinder." Diodorus thinks this plan very effectual, in 
obviating the perverting influence of forensic oratory, and of 
the sympathy of the judges. The latter pronounced sentence 
silently, and in a hieroglyphical manner. Herodotus says, 
that they had a symbol of truth on their breasts, and turned 
it towards that side in whose favour the cause was decided, 
or adorned the victorious party with it. The king himself 
had to take part in judicial business every day. Theft, we 
are told, was forbidden ; but the law commanded that thieves 
should inform against themselves. If the}^ did so, they were 
not punished, but, on the contrary, were allowed to keep a 
fourth part of what they had stolen. This perhaps was 
designed to excite and keep in exercise that cunning for 
which the Egyptians were so celebrated. 

The intelligence displayed in their legislative economy, ap- 
pears characteristic of the Egyptians. This intelligence, which 



SECT. III. PERSIA — Z«iYPT. 215 

manifests itself in the practical, we also recognize in the 
productions of art and science. The Egyptians are reported 
to have divided the year into twelve months, and each month 
into thirty days. At the end of the year they intercalated 
five additional days, and Herodotus says that their arrange- 
ment was better than that of the Grreeks. The intelligence 
of the Egyptians especially strikes us in the department of 
mecharics. Their vast edifices — such as no other nation 
has to exhibit, and which excel all others in solidity and size 
— sufficiently prove their artistic skill ; to whose cultivation 
they could largely devote themselves, because the inferior 
castes did not trouble themselves with political matters. 
Diodorus Siculus says, that Egypt was the only country in 
which the citizens did not trouble themselves about the 
state, but gave their whole attention to their private business. 
Grreeks and E/omans must have been especially astonished at 
such a state of things. 

On account of its judicious economy, Egypt w^s regarded 
by the ancients as the pattern of a morally regulated con- 
dition of things — as an ideal such as Pythagoras realized in 
a limited select society, and Plato sketched on a larger scale. 
But in such ideals no account is taken of passion. A plan 
of society that is to be adopted and acted upon, as an 
absolutely complete one, — in which everything has been con- 
sidered, and especially the education and habituation to it, 
necessary to its becoming a second nature, — is altogether 
opposed to the nature of Spirit, which makes contemporary 
life the object on which it acts ; itself being the infinite impulse 
of activity to alter its forms. This impulse also expressed itself 
in Egypt in a peculiar way. It would appear at first as if a 
condition of things so regular, so determinate in every par- 
ticular, contained nothing that had a peculiarity entirely its 
own. The introduction of a religious element would seem 
to be an affair of no critical moment, provided the higher 
necessities of men were satisfied ; we should in fact rather 
expect that it would be introduced in a peaceful way and in 
accordance with the moral arrangement of things already 
mentioned. But in contemplating the JReligion of the Egyp- 
tians, we are surprised by the strangest and most wonderful 
phenomena, and perceive that this calm order of things, 
bound fast by legislative enactment, is not like that of the 
Chinese, but that we have here to do with a Spirit entirely 



216 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL -WOItLD. 

different— one full of stirring and urgent impulses. Wc 
have here the African element, in combination with Oriental 
niassiveness, transplanted to the Mediterranean Sea, that 
(^rand locale of the display of nationalities ; but in such a 
manner, that here there is no connection with foreign nations,' 
— this mode of stimulating intellect appearing superfluous ; 
for we have here a prodigious urgent striving witliin the 
nationality itself, and which within its own circle shoots out 
into an objective realization of itself in the most monstrous 
productions. It is that African imprisonment of ideas 
combined with the infinite impulse of the spirit to realize 
itself objectively, which we find here. But Spirit has still, 
as it were, an iron band around its forehead ; so that it 
cannot attain to the free consciousness of its existence, but 
produces this only as the problem, the enigma of its being. 
The fundamental conception of that which the Egyptians 
regard as the essence of being, rests on the determinate 
character of the natural world, in which they live ; and more 
particularly on the determinate physical circle which the 
jSile and the Sun mark out. These two are strictly con- 
nected, — the position of the Sun and that of the Nile ; and 
to the Egyptian this is all in all. The Nile is that which 
essentially determines the boundaries of the country ; be- 
yond the Nile-valley begins the desert ; on the north, Egypt 
IS shut in by the sea, and on the south by torrid heat. The 
first Arab leader that conquered Egypt, writes to the 
Caliph Omar : " Egypt is first a vast sea of dust ; then a 
sea of fresh water ; lastly, it is a great sea of flowers. 
It never rains there ; towards the end of July dew falls, 
and then the Nile begins to overflow its banks, and Egypt 
resembles a sea of islands." (Herodotus compares Egypt, 
during this period, with the islands in the ^gean.) The 
Nile leaves behind it prodigious multitudes of living 
creatures : then appear moving and creeping things innu- 
merable ; soon after, man begins to sow the ground, and 
the harvest is very abundant. Thus the existence of the 
Egyptian does not depend on the brightness of the sun, or the 
quantity of rain. For him, on the contrary, there exist only 
those perfectly simple conditions, which form the basis of 
his mode of life and its occupations. There is a definite 
physical cycle, which the Nile pursues, and which is cou- 



SECT. III. PEESTA— EGYPT. 217 

tiected with the course of the Sun ; the latter advances, 
reaches its culmination, and then retrogrades. So also 
does the Nile. 

This basis of the life of the Egyptians determines more- 
over the particular tenor of their religious views. A con- 
troversy has long been waged respecting the sense and 
meaning of the Egyptian religion. As early as the reign of 
Tiberius, the Stoic -Chaeremon, who had been in Egypt, 
explains it in a purely materialistic sense. The New Pla- 
tonists take a directly opposite view, regarding all as symbols 
of a spiritual meaning, and thus making this religion a pure 
Idealism. Each of these representations is one-sided. Natural 
and spiritual powers are regarded as most intimately united, 
— (the free spiritual import, however, has not been developed 
at this stage of thought), — but in such a way, that the ex- 
tremes of the antithesis were united in the harshest contrast. 
"We have spoken of the Nile, of the Sun, and of the vegeta- 
tion depending upon them. This limited view of Nature 
gives the principle of the religion, and its subject-matter is 
primarily a history. The Nile and the Sun constitute the 
divinities, conceived under human forms ; and the course of 
nature and the mythological history is the same. In the 
winter solstice the power of the sun has reached its mini- 
mum, and must be born anew. Thus also Osiris appears as 
born ; but he is killed by Typhon, — his brother aud enemy, — 
the burning wind of the desert. Isis, the Earth, — from whom 
the aid of the Sun and of the Nile has been withdrawn, — 
yearns after him : she gathers the scattered bones of Osiris, 
and raises her lamentation for him, and all Egypt bewails with 
her the death of Osiris, in a song which Herodotus calls 
Maneros. Maneros he reports to have been the only son 
of the first king of the Egyptians, and to have died prema- 
turely ; this song being also the Linus-Song of the G-reeks, 
and the only song which the Egyptians have. Here again 
pain is regarded as something divine, and the same honour 
is assigned to it here as among the Phoenicians. Hermes 
then embalms Osiris ; and his grave is shewn in various 
places. Osiris is now judge of the dead, and lord of the 
kingdom of the Shades. These are the leading ideas. Osiris, 
the Sun, the Nile ; this triplicity of being is united in one 
knot. The Sun is the symbol, in which Osiris and the his- 



218 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

tory of that god are recognized, and the Nile is likewise such 
a symbol. The concrete Egyptian imagination also ascribes 
to Osiris and Isis the intro4uction of agriculture, the inven- 
tion of the plough, the hoe, &c. ; for Osiris gives not only 
the useful itself— the fertility of the earth — but, moreover, 
the means of making use of it. He also gives men laws, a 
civil order and a religious ritual ; he thus places in men's 
hands the means of labour, and secures its result, Osiris is 
also the symbol of the seed which is placed in the earth, and 
then springs up, — as also of the course of life. Thus we 
find this heterogeneous duality — the phenomena of Nature 
and the Spiritual — woven together into one knot. 

The parallelism of the course of human life with the Nile, 
the Sun and Osiris, is not to be regarded as a mere allegory, — 
as if the principle of birth, of increase in strength, of the cul- 
mination of vigour and fertility, of decline and weakness, ex- 
hibited itself in these different phenomena, in an equal or 
similar way ; but in this variety imagination conceived only 
one subject, one vitality. This unity is, however, quite ab- 
stract : the heterogeneous element shews itself therein as 
pressing and urging, and in a confusion which sharply con- 
trasts with Greek perspicuity. Osiris represents the Nile 
and the Sun: Sun and Nile are, on the other hand, symbols 
of human life — each one is signification and symbol at the 
same time ; the symbol is changed into signification, and 
this latter becomes symbol of that symbol, which itself then 
becomes signification. None of these phases of existence is 
a Type without being at the same time a Significafcion ; each 
is both ; the one is explained by the other. Thus there 
arises one pregnant conception, composed of many concep- 
tions, in which each fundamental nodus retains its indi- 
viduality, so that they are not resolved into a general 
idea. The general idea — the thought itself, which forms 
the bond of analogy — does not present itself to the con- 
sciousness purely and freely as such, but remains concealed 
as an internal connection. We have a consolidated indi- 
viduality, combining various phenomenal aspects ; and which 
on the one hand is fanciful, on account of the combination 
of apparently disparate material, but on the other hand 
internally and essentially connected, because these various 
appearances are a particular prosaic matter of fact. 



SECT. III. PEESIA — EGYPT. 219 

Besides this fundamental conception, we observe several 
special divinities, of whom Herodotus reckons three classes. 
0£ the first he mentions eight go(is ; of the second twelve ; 
of the third an indefinite number, who occupy the position 
towards the unity of Osiris of specific manifestations. In 
the first class, Eire and its use appears as Phtha, also as 
Knef, who is besides represented as the Good Grenius ; but 
the Nile itself is held to be that Grenius, and thus abstrac- 
tions are changed into concrete conceptions. Ammon is 
regarded as a great divinity, with whom is associated the 
determination of the equinox : it is he, moreover, who gives 
oracles. But Osiris is similarly represented as the founder 
of oracular manifestations. So the Procreative Power, 
banished by Osiris, is represented as a particular divinity. 
But Osiris is himself this Procreative Power. Isis is the 
Earth, the Moon, the receptive fertility of Nature. As an 
important element in the conception Osiris, Anubis (ThotTi), 
— the Egyptian Hermes— must be specially noticed. In 
human activity and invention, and in the economy of legisla- 
tion, the Spiritual, as such, is embodied ; and becomes in this 
form — which is itself determinate and limited — an object of 
consciousness. Here we have the Spiritual, not as one 
infinite, independent sovereignty over nature, but as a par- 
ticular existence, side by side with the powers of Nature — 
characterized also by intrinsic particularity. And thus the 
Egyptians had also specific divinities, conceived as spiritual 
activities and forces ; but partly intrinsically limited, — 
partly [so, as] contemplated under natural symbols. 

The Egyptian Hermes is celebrated as exhibiting the 
spiritual side of their theism. According to Jamblichus, the 
Egyptian priests immemorially prefixed to all their inven- 
tions the name Hermes : Eratosthenes, therefore, called his 
book, which treated of the entire science of Egypt — 
" Hermes." Anubis is called the friend and companion of 
Osiris. To him is ascribed the invention of writing, and of 
science generally — of grammar, astronomy, mensuration, 
music, and medicine. It was he who first divided the day into 
twelve hours : he was moreover the first lawgiver, the first in- 
structor in religious observances and objects, and in gymnastics 
and orchestics ; and it was he who discovered the olive. But, • 
notwithstanding all these spiritual attributes, this divinity 



220 PART I. THE ORIFNTA.L WOELD. 

is something quite other than the God of Thought. Ou\y 
particular human arts and inventions are associated with 
him. Not only so ; but he entirely falls back into involve- 
ment in existence, and is degraded under physical symbols. 
He is represented with a dog's head, as an imbruted god? 
and besides this mask, a particular natural object is bound 
up with the conception of this divinity ; for he is at the 
same time Sirius, the Dog-Star. He is thus as limited in 
respect of what he embodies, as sensuous in the positive 
existence ascribed to him. It may be incidentally remarked, 
that as Ideas and Nature are not distinguished from each 
other, in the same way the arts and appliances of human 
life are not developed and arranged so as to form a rational 
circle of aims and means. Thus medicine, — deliberation re- 
specting corporeal disease - as also the whole range of 
deliberation and resolve with regard to undertakings in life, 
— was subjected to the most multifarious superstition in the 
way of reliance on oracles and magic arts. Astronomy was 
also essentially Astrology, and Medicine an affair of magic, 
but more particularly of Astrology. All astrological and 
sympathetic superstition may be traced to Egypt. 

Egyptian Worship is chiefly Zoolatry. We have observed 
the union here presented between the Spiritual and the 
Natural: the more advanced and elevated side of this con- 
ception is the fact that the Egyptians, while they observed the 
Spiritual as manifested in the Nile, the Sun, and the sowing 
of seed, took the same view of the life of animals. To us 
Zoolatry is repulsive. We may reconcile ourselves to the 
adoration of the material heaven, but the worship of brutes 
/£ alien to us ; for the abstract natural element seems to us 
more generic, and therefore more worthy of veneration. 
Yet it is certain that the nations who worshipped the Sun 
and the Stars by no means occupy a higher grade than those 
who adore brutes, but contrariwise ; for in the brute world 
the Egyptians contemplate a hidden and incomprehensible 
principle. We also, when we contemplate the life and 
actions of brutes, are astonished at their instinct, — the adap- 
tation of their movements to the object intended, — their 
restlessness, excitability, and liveliness ; for they are exceed- 
•ingly quick and discerning in pursuing the ends of their 
existence, while they are at the same time silent and shut 



SECT. III. PERSIA— EGYPT. 221 

"up within themselves. "We cannot make out what it is that 
" possesses " these creatures, and cannot rely on them. A 
black tom-cat, with its glowing eyes and its now gliding, 
now quick and darting movement, has been deemed the 
presence of a malignant being — a mysterious reserved 
spectre : the dog, the canary-bird, on the contrary, appear 
friendly and sympathizing. The lower animals are the truly 
Incomprehensible. A man cannot by imagination or concep- 
tion enter into the nature of a dog^ whatever resemblance he 
himself might have to it ; it remains something altogether 
alien to him. It is in two departments that the so-called 
Incomprehensible meets us — in living Nature and in Spirit. 
But in very deed it is only in Nature that we have to en- 
counter the Incomprrehensible ; for the being manifest to 
itself is the essence, [supplies the very definition of ] Spirit t 
Spirit understands and comprehends Spirit. The obtuse 
self-consciousness of the Egyptians, therefore, to which the 
thought of human freedom is not yet revealed, worships the 
soul as still shut up within and dulled by the physical or- 
ganization, and sympathizes with brute life. We find a 
veneration of mere vitality among other nations also : some- 
times expressly, as among the Hindoos and all the Mon- 
golians ; sometimes in mere traces, as among the Jews: 
" Thou shalt not eat the blood of animals, for in it is the life 
of the animal." The Greeks and Eomans also regarded 
birds as specially intelligent, believing that what in the 
human spirit was not revealed — the Incomprehensible and 
Higher — was to be found in them. But among the Egyptians 
this worship of beasts was carried to excess under the forms 
of a most stupid and non-human superstition. The worship 
of brutes was among them a matter of particular and de- 
tailed arrangement : each district had a brute deity of its own 
—a cat, an ibis, a crocodile, &c. Great establishments were 
provided for them ; beautiful mates were assigned them ; and, 
like human beings, they were embalmed after death. The bulls 
were buried, but with their horns protruding above their 
graves ; the bulls embodying Apis had splendid monuments, 
and some of the pyramids must be looked upon as such. In 
one of those that have been opened, there was found in tho 
most central apartment a beautiful alabaster cofiin ; and on 
closer examination it was found that the bones enclosed were 
those of the ox. This reverence for brutes was often carried 



222 PAKT I. THE ORIENTAL TN OELD. 

to the most absurd excess of severity. If a man liilled one 
designedly, he was punished \Aith death ; but even the unde- 
signed killing of some animals might entail death. It is 
related, that once when a Roman in Alexandria killed a cat, 
an insurrection ensued, in which the Egyptians murdered 
the aggressor. They would let human beings perish by 
famine, rather than allow the sacred animals to be killed, or 
the provision made for them trenched upon. Still more 
than mere vitality, the universal vis vitce of productive nature 
was venerated in a Phallus-worship ; which the Greeks also 
adopted into the rites paid by them to Dionysus. With 
this worship the greatest excesses were connected. 

The brute form is, on the other hand, turned into a 
symbol : it is also partly degraded to a mere hieroglyphical 
sign. I refer here to the innumerable figures on the Egyp- 
tian monuments, of sparrow-hawks or falcons, dung-beetles, 
scarabsei, &c. It is not known what ideas such figures 
symbolized, and we can scarcely think that a satisfactory 
view of this very obscure subject is attainable. The dung- 
beetle is said to be the symbol of generation, — of the sun and 
its course ; the Ibis, that of the Nile's overflowing; birds of 
the hawk tribe, of prophecy — of the year— of pity. The 
strangeness of these combinations results from the circum- 
stance that' we have not, as in our idea of poetical invention, 
a general conception embodied in an image ; but, conversely, 
we begin with a concept in the sphere of sense, and imagina- 
tion conducts us into the same sphere again. But we observe 
the conception liberating itself from the direct animal form, 
and the continued contemplation of it ; and that which was 
oiily surmised and aimed at in that form, advancing to com- 
prehensibility and conceivableness. The hidden meaning — 
the Spiritual — emerges as a human face from the brute. 
The multiform sphinxes, with lions' bodies and virgins' 
heads, — or as male sphinxes (ai'cpoacpLyyeQ) with beards, — are 
evidence supporting the view, that the meaning of the Spiritual 
is the problem which the Egyptians proposed to themselves ; 
as the enigma generally is not the utterance of something 
unknown, but is the challenge to discover it, —implying a wish 
to be revealed. But conversely, the human form is also dis- 
figured by a brute face, with the view of giving it a specific 
and definite expression. The refined art of G-reece is able 



SECT. III. PEBSTA EGYPT. 223 

to attain a specific expression through the spiritual character 
given to an image in the form of beauty, and does not need 
to deform the human face in order to be understood. The 
Egyptians appended an explanation to the human forms, 
even of the gods, by means of heads and masks of brutes ; 
Anubis e.g. has a dog's head, Isis, a lion's head with bull's 
horns, &c. The priests, also, in performing their functions, 
are masked as falcons, jackals, bulls, &c. ; in the same way 
the surgeon, who has taken out the bowels of the dead (re- 
presented as fleeing, for he has laid sacrilegious hands on an 
object once hallowed by life) ; so also the embalmers and 
the scribes. The sparrow-hawk, with a human head and 
outspread wings, denotes the soul flying through material 
space, in order to animate a new body. The Egyptian 
imagination also created new forms — combinations of differ- 
ent animals : serpents with bulls' and rams' heads, bodies of 
lions with rams' heads, &c. 

"We thus see Egypt intellectually confined by a narrow, 
involved, close view of Nature, but breaking through this ; 
impelling it to self-contradiction, and proposing to itself the 
problem which that contradiction implies. The [Egyptian] 
principle does not remain satisfied with its primary condi- 
tions, but points to that other meaning and spirit which lies 
concealed beneath the surface. 

In the view just given, we saw the Egyptian Spirit work- 
ing itself free from natural forms. This urging, powerful 
Spirit, however, was not able to rest in the subjective con- 
ception of that view of things which we have now been con- 
sidering, but was impelled to present it to external conscious- 
ness and outward vision by means of Art. — Eor the religion 
of the Eternal One — the Eormless, — Art is not only unsatis- 
fying, but — since its object essentially and exclusively occupies 
the thought — something sinful. But Spirit, occupied with 
the contemplation of particular natural forms, — being at 
the same time a striving and plastic Spirit, — changes the 
direct, natural view, e.g., of the Nile, the Sun, &c., to 
images, in which Spirit has a share. It is, as we have seen, 
symbolizing Spirit ; and as such, it endeavours to master 
these symbolizations, and to present them clearly before the 
mind. The more enigmatical and obscure it is to itself, so 
much the more does it feel the impulse to labour to deliver 



224 PART I. THE ORIENTAL WOELD. 

itself from its imprisonment, and to gain a clear objective 
view of itself. 

It is the distinguishing feature of the Egyptian Spirit, 
that it stands before us as this mighty task-master. It is 
not splendour, amusement, pleasure, or the like that it 
seeks. The force which urges it is the impulse of self-com- 
prehension ; and it has no other material or ground to work 
on, in order to teach itself what it is — to realize itself for 
itself — than this working out its thoughts in stone ; and 
what it engraves on the stone are its enigmas, —these hiero- 
glyphs. They are of tw^o kinds — hieroglyphs proper, designed 
rather to express language, and having reference to subjec- 
tive conception ; and a class of hieroglyphs of a different kind, 
viz. those enormous masses of architecture and sculpture, with 
which Egypt is covered. While among other nations history 
consists of a series of events, — as, e.g., that of the Romans, 
who century after century, lived only with a view to conquest, 
and accomplished the subjugation of the world, — the Egyp- 
tians raised an empire equally mighty — of achievements 
in works of art, whose ruins prove their indestructibility, 
and which are greater and more worthy of astonishment 
than all other works of ancient or modern time. 

Of these W'Orks I will mention no others than those 
devoted to the dead, and which especially attract our atten- 
tion. These are, the enormous excavations in the hills along 
the Nile at Thebes, whose passages and chambers are entirely 
filled with mummies, — subterranean abodes as large as the 
largest mining works of our time : next, the great field of 
the dead in the plain of Sais, with its walls and vaults : 
thirdly, those Wonders of the World, the Pyramids, whose 
destination, though stated long ago by Herodotus and 
Diodorus, has been only recently expressly confirmed, — to 
the effect, viz., that these prodigious crystals, with their 
geometrical regularity, contain dead bodies : and lastly, that 
most astonishing work, the Tombs of the Kings, of which one 
has been opened by Belzoni in modern times. 

It is of essential moment to observe, what importance 
this realm of the dead had for the Egyptian : we may thence 
gather what idea he had of man. Eor in the Dead, man con- 
ceives of man as stripped of all adventitious wrappages — as 
reduced to his essential nature. But that which a people 



SECT. III. PEESIA — EGYPT. 225 

regards as man in his essential characteristics, that it is 
itself — such is its character. 

In the first place, we must here cite the remarkable fact 
which Herodotus tells us, viz., that the Egyptians were the 
first to express the thought that the soul of man is immortal. 
But this proposition that the soul is immortal, is intended 
to mean that it is something other than Nature— that Spirit 
is inherently independent. The ne plus ultra of blessedness 
among the Hindoos, was the passing over into abstract 
unity, — into Nothingness. On the other hand, subjectivity, 
when free, is inherently infinite : the Kingdom of free 
Spirit is therefore the Kingdom of the Invisible, — such as 
Hades was conceived by the Grreeks. This presents itself to 
men first as the empire of death,— to the Egyptians as the 
Realm of the Dead. 

The idea that Spirit is immortal, involves this, — that 
the human individual inherently possesses infinite value. 
The merely Natural appears limited,— absolutely dependent 
upon something other than itself, — and has its existence in 
that other ; but Immortality involves the inherent infinitude 
of Spirit. This idea is first found among the Egyptians. 
But it must be added, that the soul was known to the 
Egyptians previously only as an atom — that is, as something 
concrete and particular. For with that view is immediately 
connected the notion of Metempsychosis — the idea that the 
soul of man may also become the tenant of the body of a 
brute. Aristotle too speaks- of this idea, and despatches it 
in few words. Every subject, he says, has its particular 
organs, for its peculiar mode of action : so the smith, the 
carpenter, each for his own craft. In like manner the 
human soul has its peculiar organs, and the body of a brute 
cannot be its domicile. Pythagoras adopted the doctrine of 
Metempsychosis ; but it could not find much support among 
the Grreeks, who held rather to the concrete. The Hindoos 
have also an indistinct conception of this doctrine, inasmuch 
as with them the final attainment is absorption in the uni- 
versal Substance. But with the Egyptians the Soul, — the 
Spirit, — is, at any rate, an affirmative being, although only 
abstractedly affirmative. The period occupied by the soul's 
migrations was fixed at three thousand years ; they affirmed, 
however, that a soul which had remained faithful to Osiris, 

Q 



225 PAET I. THE OEIENTAL WORLD. 

was not subject to such a degradation, — for such they 
deem it. 

It is well known that the Egyptians embalmed their dead ; 
and thus imparted such a degree of permanence, that they 
have been preserved even to the present day, and may con- 
tinue as they are, for many centuries to come. This indeed 
seems inconsistent with their idea of immortality ; for if the 
soul has an independent existence, the permanence of the 
body seems a matter of indifference. But on the other hand 
it may be said, that if the soul is recognized as a permanent 
existence, honour should be shewn to the body, as its former 
abode. The Parsees lay the bodies of the dead in exposed 
places to be devoured by birds ; but among them the soul is 
regarded as passing forth into universal existence. "Where 
the soul is supposed to enjoy continued existence, the body 
must also be considered to have some kind of connection 
^vith this continuance. Among us, indeed, the doctrine of 
the Immortality of the Soul assumes the higher form : Spiric 
is in and for itself eternal ; its destiny is eternal blessedness. 
— The Egyptians made their dead into mummies ; and did 
not occupy themselves further with them ; no honour was 
paid them beyond this. Herodotus relates of the Egyptians, 
that when any person died, the women went about loudly 
lamenting ; but the idea of Immortality is not regarded in 
the light of a consolation, as among us. 

Erom what was said above, respecting the works for the 
Dead, it is evident that the Egyptians, and especially their 
kings, made it the business of their life to build their 
sepulchre, and to give their bodies a permanent abode. It 
is remarkable that what had been needed for the business of 
life, was buried with the dead. Thus the craftsman had his 
tools : designs on the coffin shew the occupation to which 
the deceased had devoted himself ; so that we are able to 
become acquainted with him in all the minutiae of his con- 
dition and employment. Many mummies have been found 
with a roll of papyrus under their arm, and this was formerly 
regarded as a remarkable treasure. But these rolls contain 
only various representations of the pursuits of life, — together 
with writings in the Demotic character. They have been 
deciphered, and the discovery has been made, that they are 
all deeds of purchase, relating to pieces of ground and the 



SECT. III. PERSIA — EGYPT. 227 

like ; in which everything is most minutely recorded — even 
the duties that had to be paid to the royal chancery on the 
occasion. What, therefore, a person bought during his life, is 
made to accompany him — in the shape of a legal document — 
in death. In this monumental way we are made acquainted 
with the private life of the Egyptians, as with that of the 
Eomans through the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum. 

After the death of an Egyptian, judgment was passed upon 
him. — One of the principal representations on the sarco- 
phagi is this judicial process in the realm of the dead. 
Osiris— with Isis behind him — appears, holding a balance, 
while before him stands the soul of the deceased. But 
judgment was passed on the dead by the living themselves ; 
and that not merely in the case of private persons, but even 
of kings. The tomb of a certain king has been discovered 
— very large, and elaborate in its architecture — in whose 
hieroglyphs the name of the principal person is obliterated, 
while in the bas-reliefs and pictorial designs the chief figure is 
erased. This has been explained to import that the honour 
of being thus immortalized, wa-s refused this king by the 
sentence of the Court of the Dead. 

If Death thus haunted the minds of the Egyptians during 
life, it might be supposed that their disposition was melan- 
choly. But the thought of death by no means occasioned 
depression. At banquets they had representations of the 
dead, (as Herodotus relates,) with the admonition : " Eat and 
drink, — such a one wilt thou become, when thou art dead." 
Death was thus to them rather a call to enjoy Life. Osiris 
himself dies, and goes down into the realm of death, accord- 
ing to the above-mentioned Egyptian myth. In many 
places in Egypt, the sacred grave of Osiris was exhibited. 
But he was also represented as president of the Kingdom of 
the Invisible Sphere, and as judge of the dead in it ; later 
on, Serapis exercised this function in his place. Of Anubis- 
Hermes the myth says, that he embalmed the body of Osiris : 
this Anubis sustained also the office of leader of the souls 
of the dead ; and in the pictorial representations he stands, 
with a writing tablet in his hand, by the side of Osiris. The 
reception of the dead into the Kingdom of Osiris had also a 
profounder import, viz., that the individual was united with 
Osiris* On the lids of the sarcophagi, therefore, the defunct 

Q, 2 



228 PABT I. THE ORIElfTAL WORLD. 

is represented as having himself become Osiris ; and in deci- 
phering the hieroglyphs, the idea has been suggested that 
the kings are called gods. The human and the divine are 
thus exhibited as united. 

If, in conclusion, we combine what has been said here of 
the peculiarities of the Egyptian Spirit in all its aspects, its 
pervading principle is found to be, that the two elements of 
reality — Spirit sunk in Nature, and the impulse to liberate it 
— are here held together inharmoniously as contending ele- 
ments. We behold the antithesis of Nature and Spirit, — 
not the primary Immediate Unity [as in the less advanced 
nations], nor the Concrete Unity, where Nature is posited 
only as a basis for the manifestation of Spirit [as in the 
more advanced] ; in contrast with the first and second of 
these Unities, the Egyptian Unity — combining contra- 
dictory elements — occupies a middle place. The two rides 
of this unity are held in abstract independence of each 
other, and their veritable union presented only as a pro- 
blem. We have, therefore, on the one side, prodigious con- 
fusion and limitation to the particular ; barbarous sensuality 
with African hardness, Zoolatry, and sensual enjoyment. 
It is stated that, in a public market-place, sodomy was 
committed by a woman with a goat. Juvenal relates, that 
human flesh was eaten and human blood drunk out of 
revenge. The other side is the struggle of Spirit for libera- 
tion, — fancy displayed in the forms created by art, together 
with the abstract understanding shewn in the mechanical 
labours connected with their production. The same intelli- 
gence — the power of altering the form of individual existences, 
and that steadfast thoughtfulness which can rise above mere 
phenomena — shews itself in their police and the mechanism 
of the State, in agricultural economy, &c. ; and the contrast 
to this is the severity with which their customs bind them, 
and the superstition to which humanity among them is 
inexorably subject. With a clear understanding of the 
present, is connected the highest degree of impulsiveness, 
daring and turbulence. These features are combined in the 
stories which Herodotus relates to us of the Egyptians. 
They much resemble the tales of the Thousand and One 
Nights ; and although these have Bagdad as the locality of 
their narration, their origin is no more limited to this luxu- 
rious court, than to the Arabian people, but must be partly 



SECT. III. TRANSITION TO THE GREEK WORLD. 229 

traced to Egypt, — as Von Hammer also thinks. The Arabian 
world is quite other than the fanciful and enchanted region 
there described ; it has much more simple passions and 
interests. Love, Martial Daring, the Horse, the Sword, are 
the darling subjects of the poetrj peculiar to the Arabians. 



TRANSITION TO THE GREEK WORLD. 

The Egyptian Spirit has shewn itself to us as in all 
respects shut up within the limits of particular conceptions, 
and, as it were, imbruted in them ; but likewise stirring 
itself within these limits, — passing restlessly from one par- 
ticular form into another. This Spirit never rises to the 
Universal and Higher, for it seems to be blind to that ; nor 
does it ever withdraw into itself: yet it symbolizes freely 
and boldly with particular existence, and has already mas- 
tered it. All that is now required is to posit that particular 
existence — which contains the germ of ideality — as ideal, 
and to comprehend Universality itself, which is already poten- 
tially liberated from the particulars involving it. * It is the 
free, joyful Spirit of Grreece that accomplishes this, and 
makes this its starting-point. An Egyptian priest is re- 
ported to have said, that the Grreeks remain eternally children. 
We may say, on the contrary, that the Egyptians are vigor- 
ous hoi/s, eager for self-comprehension, who require nothing 
but clear understanding of themselves in an ideal form, in 
order to become Young Men. In the Oriental Spirit there 
remains as a basis the massive substantiality of Spirit im- 
mersed in Nature. To the Egyptian Spirit it has become 
impossible — though it is still involved in infinite embarrass- 
ment — to remain contented with that. The rugged African 
nature disintegrated that primitive Unity, and lighted upon 
the problem whose solution is Eree Spirit. 

That the Spirit of the Egyptians presented itself to their 
consciousness in the form of a prohlem, is evident from the 
celebrated inscription in the sanctuary of the Goddess Neith 

* Abstractions were to take the place of analogies. The power to con- 
nect particular conceptions as analogical, does but just fall short of ihe 
ability to comprehend the general idea which links them. — Tb. 



230 PAET ir. THE OlilENTAL WORLD. 

at Sais : " / flw^ that which is, that which was, and that which 

will be : no one has lifted my veil.''' This inscription indi- 
cates tlie principle of the Egyptian Spirit ; though the opinion 
has often been entertained, that its purport applies to all 
times. Proclus supplies the addition : " The fruit which 1 
have 'produced is Helios:' That which is clear to itself is, 
therefore, the result of, and the solution of, the problem in 
question. This lucidity is Spirit— the Son of Neith the con- 
cealed night-loving divinity. In the Egyptian Neith, Truth 
is still a problem. The G-reek Apollo is its solution ; his 
utterance is : " Man, know thyself In this dictum is not 
intended a self-recognition that regards the specialities of 
one's own weaknesses and defects : it is not the individual that 
is admonished to become acquainted with his idiosyncrasy, 
but humanity in general is summoned to self-knowledge. 
This mandate was given for the Greeks, and in the Greek 
Spirit humanity exhibits itself in its clear and developed 
condition. Wonderfully, then, must the Greek legend sur- 
prise us, which relates, that the Sphinx— the great Egyptian 
symbol^appeared in Thebes, uttering the words : " What is 
that which in the morning goes on four legs, at mid -day on 
two, and in the evening on three?" CEdip us, giving' the 
solution, Man, precipitated the Sphinx from the rock. The 
solution and liberation of that Oriental Spirit, which in 
Egypt had advanced so far as to propose the problem, is 
certainly this: that the Inner Being [the Essence] of Nature 
is Thought, which has its existence only in the human con- 
sciousness. But that time-honoured antique solution given by 
(Edipus — who thus shews himself possessed of knowledge— is 
connected with a dire ignorance of the character of his own 
actions. The rise of spiritual illumination in the old royal 
house is disparaged by connection with abominations, the re- 
sult of ignorance ; and that primeval royalty must — in order 
to attain true knowledge and moral clearness— first be 
brought into shapely form, and be harmonized with the 
Spirit of the Beautiful, by civil laws and political freedom. 

The inward or ideal transition, from Egypt to Greece is 
as just exhibited. But Egypt became a province of the 
great Persian kingdom, and the historical transition takes 
place when the Persian world comes in contact with the 
Greek. Here, for the first time, an historical transition 



SECT. III. TEANSITION TO THE GREEK WORLD. 231 

meets us, viz. in the fall of an empire. China and India, 
as already mentioned, have remained, — Persia has not. The 
transition to Grreece is, indeed, internal ; but here it shews 
itself also externally, as a transmission of sovereignty — an 
occurrence which from this time forward is ever and anon 
repeated. For the Greeks surrender the sceptre of dominion 
and of civilization to the Eomans, and the Eomans are 
subdued by the Grermans. If we examine this fact of tran- 
sition more closely, the question suggests itself— for ex- 
ample, in this first case of the kind, viz. Persia — why it sank, 
while China and India remain. In the first place we must here 
banish from our minds the prejudice in favour of duration, 
as if it had any advantage as compared with transience : the 
imperishable mountains are not superior to the quickly dis- 
mantled rose exhaling its life in fragrance. In Persia begins 
the principle of Free Spirit as contrasted with imprison- 
ment in Nature ; mere natural existence, therefore, loses 
its bloom, and fades away. The principle of separation from 
Nature is found in the Persian Empire, which, therefore, 
occupies a higher grade than those worlds immersed in the 
Natural. The necessity of advance has been thereby pro- 
claimed. Spirit has disclosed its existence, and must com- 
plete its development. It is only when dead that the 
Chinese is held in reverence. The Hindoo kills himself — 
becomes absorbed in Brahm — undergoes a living death in 
the condition of perfect unconsciousness, — or is a present 
god in virtue of his birth. Here we have no change ; no 
advance is admissible, for progress is only possible through 
the recognition of the independence of Spirit. With the 
" Light " of the Persians begins a spiritual view of things, and 
here Spirit bids adieu to Nature. It is here, then, that we 
first find (as occasion called us to notice above,) that the 
objective world remains free, — that the nations are not en- 
slaved, but are left in possession of their wealth, their 
political constitution, and their religion. And, indeed, this 
is the side on which Persia itself shews weakness as com- 
pared with Grreece. Por we see that the Persians could 
erect no empire possessing complete organization ; that they 
could not ' inform ' the conquered lands with their prin- 
ciple, and were unable to make them into a harmonious 
Whole, but were obliged to be content with an aggregate of 



232 PAET II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

the most diverse individualities. Among these nations the 
Persians secured no inward recognition of the legitimacy 
of their rule ; they could not establish their legal principles 
or enactments, and in organizing their dominion, they 
only considered themselves, not the whole extent of their 
empire. Thus, as Persia did not constitute, politically, one 
Spirit, it appeared weak in contrast with Greece. It was 
not the effeminacy of the Persians (although, perhaps, 
Babylon infused an enervating element) that ruined them, 
but the unwieldy, unorganized character of their hc^t, as 
matched against G-reek organization ; i.e., the superior prin- 
ciple overcame the inferior. The abstract principle of the 
Persians displayed its defectiveness as an unorganized, in- 
compacted union of disparate contradictories ; in which the 
Persian doctrine of Light stood side by side with Syrian 
voluptuousness and luxury, with the activity and courage of 
the sea-braving Phoenicians, the abstraction of pure Thought 
in the Jewish Eeligion, and the mental unrest of Egypt ; — an 
aggregate of elements, which awaited their idealization, and 
could receive it only in free Individuality/. The Greeks must 
be looked upon as the people in w4iom these elements inter- 
penetrated each other : Spirit became introspective, tri- 
umphed over particularity, and thereby emancipated itself. 



PAET II. 

THE GREEK AVORLD. 



Among the Greeks we feel ourselves immediately at 
home, for we are in the region of Spirit ; and though the 
origin of the nation, as also its philological peculiarities, 
may be traced farther— even to India — the proper Emergence, 
the true Palingenesis of Spirit must be looked for in Greece 
first. At an earlier stage I compared the Greek world with 
the period of adolescence ; not, indeed, in that sense, that 
youth bears within it a serious, anticipative destiny, and 
consequently by the very conditions of its culture urges 
towards an ulterior aim, — presenting thus an inherently in- 
complete and immature form, and being then most defective 



PAUT II. THE GEEEK WOBLD. 233 

when it would deem itself perfect, — but in that sense, tliat 
youth does not yet present the activity of work, — does not 
yet exert itself for a definite intelligent aim, — but rather 
exhibits a concrete freshness of the soul's life. It appears 
in the sensuous, actual world, as Incarnate Spirit and 
Spiritualized Sense,— in a Unity which owed its origin to 
Spirit. Grreece presents to us the cheerful aspect of youth- 
ful freshness, of Spiritual vitality. It is here first that 
advancing Spirit makes itself the content of its volition and 
its knowledge ; but in such a way that State, Family, Law, 
Eeligion, are at the same time objects aimed at by indi- 
viduality, while the latter is individuality only in virtue of 
those aims. The [full-grown] man, on the other hand, devotes 
his life to labour for an objective aim ; which he pursues 
consistently, even at the cost of his individuality. 

The highest form that floated before Greek imagination 
was Achilles, the Son of the Poet, the Homeric Youth of 
the Trojan War. Homer is the element in which the Grreek 
world lives, as man does in the air. The G-reek life is a truly 
youthful achievement. Achilles, the ideal youth of poetry^ 
commenced it : Alexander the Great, the ideal youth of 
reality, concluded it. Both appear in contest with Asia. 
Achilles, as the principal figure in the national expedition 
of the Greeks against Troy, does not stand at its head, but 
is subject to the Chief of Chiefs ; he cannot be made the 
leader without becoming a fantastic untenable conception. 
On the contrary, the second youth, Alexander— the freest 
and finest individuality that the real world has ever pro- 
duced — advances to the head of this youthful life that has 
now perfected itself, and accomplishes the revenge against 
Asia. 

We have, then, to distinguish three periods in Greek 
history ; the first, that of the growth of real Individuality ; 
the second, that of its independence and prosperity in ex- 
ternal conquest (through contact with the previous World- 
historical people) ; and the third, the period of its decline and 
fall, in its encounter with the succeeding organ of World- 
History. The period from its origin to its internal complete- 
ness, (that which enables a people to make head against its 
predecessor) includes its primary culture. If the nation has a 
basis — such as the Greek world has in the Oriental — a foreign 



234 PABT II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

culture enters as an element into its primary condition, and 
it has a double culture, one original, the other of foreign 
suggestion. The uniting of these two elements constitutes 
its training ; and the first period ends with the combination 
of its forces to produce its real and proper vigour, which 
then turns against the very element that had been its 
basis. The second period is that of victory and prosperity. 
But while the nation directs its energies outwards, it be- 
comes unfaithful to its principles at home, and internal 
dissension follows upon the ceasing of the external excite- 
ment. In Art and Science, too, this shews itself in the 
separation of the Ideal from the E-eal. Here is the point ot 
decline. The third period is that of ruin, through contact 
with the nation that embodies a higher Spirit. The same 
process, it may be stated once for all, will meet us in the 
life of every world-historical people. 



SECTION I. 

THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPIRIT. 

Geeece is [that form of] the Substantial [i.e. of Moral and 
Intellectual Principle,'] which is at the same time individual. 
The Universal [the Abstract], as such, is overcome ;* the 
submersion in Nature no longer exists, and consentaneously 
the unwieldy character of geographical relations has also 
vanished. The country now under consideration is a sec- 
tion of territory spreading itself in various forms through 
the sea, — a multitude of islands, and a continent which 
itself exhibits insular features. The Peloponnesus is con- 
nected with the continent only by a narrow isthmus : the 
whole of Grreece is indented by bays in numberless shapes. 
The partition into small divisions of territory is the universal 
characteristic, while at the same time, the relationship and 
connection between them is facilitated by the sea. We find 
here mountains, plains, valleys, and streams of limited ex- 
tent : no great river, no absolute Yalley-Plain presents it- 

* That is, blind obedience to moral requirements, — to principle ab- 
stracted from personal conviction or inclination, as among the Chinese. — 
Tr. 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GEEEK SPIEIT. 235 

self ; but tlie ground is diversified by mountains and rivers 
in such a way as to allow no prominence to a single massive 
feature. We see no such display of physical grandeur as is 
exhibited in the East, — no stream such as the Granges, the 
Indus, &c., on whose plains a race delivered over to mono- 
tony is stimulated to no chiange, because its horizon always 
exhibits one unvarying form. On the contrary, that divided 
and multiform character everywhere prevails which perfectly 
corresponds with the varied life of Greek races and the 
versatility of the Greek Spirit. 

This is the elementary character of the Spirit of the 
Greeks, implying the origination of their culture from inde- 
pendent individualities ; — a condition in which individuals 
take their own ground, and are not, from the very be- 
ginning, patriarchally united by a bond of Nature, but 
realize a union through some other medium, — through Law 
and Custom having the sanction of Spirit. Tor beyond all 
other nations that of Greece attained its form by growth. 
At the origin of their national unity, separation as a generic 
feature — inherent distinctness of character — is the chief point 
that has to be considered. The first phase in the subjuga- 
tion of this, constitutes the primary period of Greek culture ; 
and only through such distinctness of character, and such a 
subjugation of it, was the beautiful free Greek Spirit pro- 
duced. Of this principle we must have a clear conception. 
It is a superficial and absurd idea that such a beautiful and 
truly free life can be produced by a process so incomplex as 
the development of a race keeping within the limits of 
blood-relationship and friendship. Even the plant, which 
supplies the nearest analogy to such a calm, homogeneous 
unfolding, lives and grows only by means of the antithetic 
activities of light, air, and water. The only real antithesis 
that Spirit can have, is itself spiritual : viz., its inherent 
heterogeneity, through which alone it acquires the power of 
realizing itself as Spirit. The history of Greece exhibits at 
its commencement this interchange and mixture of partly 
homesprung, partly quite foreign stocks ; and it was Attica 
itself— whose people was destined to attain the acme of 
Hellenic bloom — that was the asylum of the most various 
stocks and families. Every world-historical people, except 
the Asiatic kingdoms, — which stand detached from the grand 



236 PART II. THE GEEEK WOELD. 

historical catena,— has been formed in this way. Thus the 
Greeks, like the Eoraans, developed themselves from a 
colluvies — a conflux of the most various nations. Of the 
multitude of tribes which we meet in Grreece, we cannot say 
which was the original Greek people, and which immigrated 
from foreign lands and distant parts of the globe ; for the 
period of which we speak belongs entirely to the unhis- 
torical and obscure. The Pelasgi were at that time a prin- 
cipal race in Greece. The most various attempts have been 
made by the learned to harmonize the confused and con- 
tradictory account which we have respecting them, — a hazy 
and obscure period being a special object and stimulus to 
erudition. Remarkable as the earliest centres of incipient 
culture are Thrace, the native land of Orpheus, — and Thes- 
saly ; countries which at a later date retreated more or less 
into the background. IVom Phthiotis, the country of 
Achilles, proceeds the common name Hellenes, — a name 
which, as Thucydides remarks, presents itself as little in 
Homer in this comprehensive sense, as the term Barbarians, 
from whom the Greeks were not yet clearly distinguished. 
It must be left to special history to trace the several tribes, 
and their transformations. In general we may assume, that 
the tribes and individuals were prone to leave their country 
when too great a population occupied it, and that conse- 
quently these tribes were in a migratory condition, and 
practised mutual depredation. " Even now," says the dis- 
cerning Thucydides, " the Ozolian Locrians, the ^tolians, 
and Acarnanians retain their ancient mode of life ; the custom 
of carrying weapons, too, has maintained itself among them 
as a relic of their ancient predatory habits." E-especting 
the Athenians, he says, that they were the first who laid aside 
arms in time of peace. In such a state of things agriculture 
was not pursued ; the inhabitants had not only to defend 
themselves against freebooters, but also to contend with 
wild beasts (even in Herodotus' s time many lions infested 
the banks of the Nestus and Achelous) ; at a later time 
tame cattle became especially an object of plunder, and even 
after agriculture had become more general, men were still 
entrapped and sold for slaves. In depictiag this original 
condition of Greece, Thucydides goes still further into de« 
tail. 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GEEEK SPIHIT. 237 

Grreece, then, was in this state of turbulence, insecurity, 
and rapine, and its tribes were continually migrating. 

The other element in which the national life of the 
Hellenes was versed, was the Sea. The physique of their 
country led them to this amphibious existence, and allowed 
them to skim freely over the waves, as they spread them- 
selves freely over the land, — not roving about like the 
nomad populations, nor torpidly vegetating like those of the 
river districts. Piracy, not trade, was the chief object of 
maritime occupations ; and, as we gather from Homer, it 
was not yet reckoned discreditable. The suppression of 
piracy is ascribed to Minos, and Crete' is renowned as the 
land where security was first enjoyed ; for there the state of 
things which we meet with again in Sparta was early 
realized, viz., the establishment in power of one party, and 
the subjugation of the other, which was compelled to obey 
and work for the former. 

We have just spoken of heterogeneity as an element of 
the G-reek Spirit, and it is well known that the rudiments 
of Greek civilization are connected with the advent of 
foreigners. This origin of their moral life the Greeks have 
preserved, with grateful recollection, in a form of recogni- 
tion which we may call mythological. In their mythology 
we have a definite record of the introduction of agriculture 
by Triptolemus, who was instructed by Ceres, and of the insti- 
tution of marriage, &c. Prometheus, whose origin is referred 
to the distant Caucasus, is celebrated as having first taught 
men the production and the use of fire. The introduction 
of iron was likewise of great importance to the Greeks ; and 
while Homer speaks only of bronze, -Sischylus calls iron 
" Scythian." The introduction of the olive, of the art of 
spinning and weaving, and the creation of '^Q horse by Posei- 
don, belong to the same category. 

More historical than these rudiments of culture is the 
alleged arrival of foreigners ; tradition tells us how the 
various states were founded by such foreigners. Thus, 
Athens owes its origin to Cecrops, an Egyptian, whose his- 
tory, however, is involved in obscurity. The race of Deu- 
calion, the son of Prometheus, is brought into connection 
with the various Greek tribes. Pel ops of Phrygia, the 
son of Tantalus, is also mentioned ; next, Danaus, from 



238 PAET II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

Egypt : from him descend Acrisius, Danae, and Perseus. 
Pelops is said to have brought great wealth with him to the 
Peloponnesus, and to have acquired great respect and power 
there. Danaus settled in Argos. Especially important is 
the arrival of Cadmus, of Phoenician origin, with whom 
phonetic writing is said to have been introduced into Greece; 
Herodotus refers it to Phoenicia, and ancient inscriptions 
then extant are cited to support the assertion. Cadmus, 
according to the legend, founded Thebes. 

We thus observe a colonization by civilized peoples, who 
were in advance of the Greeks in point of culture : though 
we cannot compare this colonization with that of the English 
in North America, for the latter have not been blended with 
the aborigines, but have dispossessed them ; whereas in the 
case of the settlers in Greece the adventitious and autoch- 
thonic elements were mixed together. The date assigned 
to the arrival of these colonists is very remote — the 14th and 
15th century B.C. Cadmus is said to have founded Thebes 
about 1490 B.C. — a date with which the Exodus of Moses 
from Egypt (1500 b.c.) nearly coincides. Amphictyon is 
also mentioned among the Pounders of Greek institutions ; 
he is said to have established at Thermopylae a union be- 
tween many small tribes of Hellas proper and Thessaly, — a 
combination with which the great Amphictyonic league is 
said to have originated. 

These foreigners, then, are reputed to have established 
fixed centres in Greece by the erection of fortresses and the 
founding of royal houses. In Argolis, the walls of which 
the ancient fortresses consisted, were called Cyclopian ; some 
of them have been discovered even in recent times, since, on 
account of their solidity, they are indestructible. 

These walls consist partly of irregular blocks, whose in- 
terstices are filled up with small stones, — partly of masses of 
stones carefully fitted into each other. Such walls are those 
of Tiryns and Mycenae. Even now the gate with the lions, 
at Mycenae, can be recognized by the description of Pau- 
sanias. It is stated of Proetus, who ruled in Argos, that ho 
brought with him from Lycia the Cyclopes who built these 
walls. It is, however, supposed that they were erected by 
the ancient Pelasgi. To the fortresses protected by such 
walls the princes of the heroic times generally attached their 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPJTtlT. 239 

dwellings. Especially remarkable are the Treasure-houses 
built by them, such as tlie Treasure-house of Minyas at 
Orchomenus, and that of Atreus at My cense. These fortresses, 
then, were the nuclei of small states ; they gave a greater 
security to agriculture ; they protected commercial inter- 
course against robbery. They were, however, as Thucydides 
informs us, not placed in the immediate vicinity of the sea, 
on account of piracy ; maritime towns being of later date. 
Thus with those royal abodes originated the firm establish- 
ment of society. The relation of princes to subjects, and to 
each other, we learn best from Homer. It did not depend 
on a state of things established by law, but on superiority 
in riches, possessions, martial accoutrements, personal bra- 
very, preeminence in insight and wisdom, and lastly, on 
descent and ancestry ; for the princes, as heroes, were re- 
garded as of a higher race. Their subjects obeyed them, not 
as distinguished from them by conditions of Caste, nor as in 
a state of serfdom, nor in the patriarchal relation — according 
to which the chief is only the head of the tribe or family to 
which all belong — nor yet as the result of the express neces- 
sity for a constitutional government ; but only from the 
need, universally felt, of being held together, and of obeying 
a ruler accustomed to command — without envy and ill-will 
towards him. The Prince has just so much personal authority 
as he possesses the ability to acquire and to assert ; but as 
this superiority is only the individually heroic, resting oi: 
personal merit, it does not continue long. Thus in Homer 
we see the suitors of Penelope taking possession of the 
property of the absent Ulysses, without showing the slightest 
respect to his son. Achilles, in his inquiries about his father, 
when Ulysses descends to Hades, indicates the supposition 
that, as he is old, he will be no longer honoured. Manners 
are still very simple : princes prepare their own repasts ; and 
Ulysses labours at the construction of his own house. In 
Homer's Iliad we find a King of Kings, a generalissimo in the 
great national undertaking, — but the other magnates environ 
him as a freely deliberating council : the prince is honoured, 
but he is obliged to arrange everything to the satisfaction of 
the others ; he indulges in violent conduct towards Achilles, 
but, in revenge, the latter withdraws from the struggle. 
Equally lax is the relation of the several chiefs to the people at 



240 PART II. THE GEEEK WOULD. 

large, among whom therc are always individuals who claim 
attention and respect. The various peoples do not fight aa 
mercenaries of the prince in his battles, nor as a stupid serf- 
like herd driven to the contest, nor yet in their own interest; 
but as the companions of their honoured chieftain, — as wit- 
nesses of his exploits, and his defenders in peril. A perfect 
resemblance to these relations is also presented in the Greek 
Pantheon, Zeas is the Father of the Gods, but each one of 
them has his own will ; Zeus respects them, and they him : 
he may sometimes scold and threaten them, and they then 
allow his will to prevail, or retreat grumbling ; but they do 
not permit matters to come to an extremity, and Zeus 
so arranges matters on the whole — by making this concession 
to one, that to another — as to produce satisfaction. In 
the terrestrial, as well as in the Olympian world, there is, 
therefore, only a lax bond of unity maintained; royalty has 
not yet become monarchy, for it is only in a more extensive 
society that the need of the latter is felt. 

"While this state of things prevailed, and social relations 
were such as have been described, that striking and great 
event took place — the union of the whole of G-reece in a 
national undertaking, viz., the Trojan War ; with which 
began that more extensive connection with Asia which had 
very important results for the Greeks. (The expedition of 
Jason to Colchis — also mentioned by the poets — and which 
bears an earlier date, was, as compared with the war of Troy, 
a very limited and isolated undertaking.) The occasion of 
that united expedition is said to have been the violation of 
the laws of hospitality by the son of an Asiatic prince, in 
carrying off the wife of his host. Agamemnon assembles 
the princes of Greece through the power and influence which 
he possesses. Thucydides ascribes his authority to his here- 
ditary sovereignty, combined with naval power (Hom. II. ii. 
108),* in which he was far superior to the rest. It appears, 
however, that the combination was effected without external 
compulsion, and that the whole armament was convened 
simply on the strength of individual consent. The Hellenes 
were then brought to act unitedly, to an extent of which 
there is no subsequent example. The result of their exer- 
tions was the conquest and destruction of Troy, though they 
had no design of making it a permanent possession. No 



BECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OE THE GREEK SPIEIT. 241 

external result, therefore, in the way of settlement ensued, 
any more than an enduring political union, as the effect of 
the uniting of the nation in the accomplishment of this sin- 
gle achievement. But the poet supplied an imperishable 
portraiture of their youth and of their national spirit, to 
the imagination of the Greek people ; and the picture of this 
beautiful human heroism hovered as a directing ideal before 
their whole development and culture. So likewise, in the 
Middle Ages, we see the whole of Christendom united to at- 
tain one object — the conquest of the Holy Sepulchre ; but, 
in spite of all the victories achieved, with just as little per- 
manent result. The Crusades are the Trojan "War of newly 
awakened Christendom, waged against the simple, homo- 
geneous clearness of Mahometanism. 

The royal houses perished, partly as the consequence of 
particular atrocities, partly through gradual extinction. 
There was no strictly moral bond connecting them with the 
tribes which they governed. The same relative position is 
occupied by the people and the royal houses in the Grreek 
Tragedy also. The people is the Chorus, — passive, deedless : 
the heroes perform the deeds, and incur the consequent res- 
ponsibility. There is nothing in common between them ; 
the people have no directing power, but only appeal to the 
gods. Such heroic personalities as those of the princes in 
question, are so remarkably suited for subjects of dramatic 
art on this very account — that they form their resolutions 
independently and individually, and are not guided by uni- 
versal laws binding on every citizen; their conduct and 
their ruin is individual. The people appears separated from 
the royal houses, and these are regarded as an alien 
body — a higher race, fighting out the battles and under- 
going the penalties of their fate, for themselves alone. 
Eoyalty having performed that which, it had to perform, 
thereby rendered itself superfluous. The several dynasties 
are the agents of their own destruction, or perish not as the 
result of animosity, or of struggles on the side of the people : 
rather the families of the sovereigns are left in calm enjoy- 
ment of their power— a proof that the democratic govern- 
ment which followed is not regarded as something absolutely 
diverse. How sharply do the annals of other times contrast 
with this ! 



242 PAET II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

This fall of the royal houses occurs after the Trojan war, 
and many changes now present themselves. The Pelopon- 
nesus was conquered by the Heraclidse, who introduced a 
calmer state of things, which was not again interrupted by 
the incessant migrations of races. The history now becomes 
more obscure ; and though the several occurrences of the 
Trojan war are very circumstantially described to us, we are 
uncertain respecting the important transactions of the time 
immediately following, for a space of many centuries. No 
united undertaking distinguishes them, unless we regard as 
such that of which Thucydides speaks, viz., the war between 
the Chalcidiaus and Eretrians in Euboea, in which many 
nations took part. The towns vegetate in isolation, or at 
most distinguish themselves by war with their neighbours. 
Yet, they enjoy prosperity in this isolated condition, by 
means of trade ; a kind of progress to which their being 
rent by many party-struggles offers no opposition. In the 
same way, we observe in the Middle Ages the towns of 
Italy— which, both internally and externally, were engaged 
in continual struggle — attaining so high a degree of pros- 
perity. The ilourishing state of the Greek towns at that 
time is proved, according to Thucydides, also by the colonies 
sent out in every direcrion. Thus, Athens colonized Ionia 
and severalislands^ and colonies from the Peloponnesus settled 
in Italy and Sicily. Colonies, on the other hand, became 
relatively mother states ; e.g. Miletus, which founded many 
cities on the Propontis and the Black Sea. This sending out 
of colonies — especially during the period between the Tro- 
jan war and Cyrus — presents us vrith a remarkable pheno- 
menon. It can be thus explained. In the several towns 
the people had the governmental power in their hands, since 
they gave the final decision in political affairs. In conse- 
quence of the long repose enjoyed by them, the population 
and the development of the community advanced rapidly ; 
and the immediate result was the amassing of great riches, 
contemporaneously with which fact great want and poverty 
make their appearance. Industry, in our sense, did not 
exist; and the lands were soon occupied. Nevertheless 
a part of the poorer classes would not submit to the degra- 
dations of poverty, for every one felt himself a free citizen. 
The onlv expedient, therefore, that remained, was coloniza- 



SECT. T. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPIEIT. 243 

iion. In another country, those who suffered distress in 
their own, might seek a free soil, and gain a living as free 
citizens by its cultivation. Colonization thus became a 
means of maintaining some degree of equality among the 
citizens ; but this means is only a palliative, and the origi- 
nal inequality, founded on the difference of property, imme- 
diately reappears. The old passions were rekindled with 
fresh violence, and riches were soon made use of for se- 
curing power : thus " Tyrants " gained ascendancy in the 
cities of Grreece. Thucydides says, " When Greece increased 
in riches, Tyrants arose in the cities, and the Grreeks devoted^ 
themselves more zealously to the sea." At the time of 
Cyrus, the History of Grreece acquires its peculiar interest ; 
we see the various states now displaying their particular 
character. This is the date, too, of the formation of the dis- 
tinct Greek Spirit. Beligion and political institutions are 
developed with it, and it is these important phases of na- 
tional life which must now occupy our attention. 

In tracing up the rudiments of Greek culture, we first 
recal attention to the fact, that the physical condition of 
the country does not exhibit such a characteristic unity, 
such a uniform mass, as to exercise a powerful influence 
over the inhabitants. On the contrary, it is diversified, and 
produces no decided impression. Nor have we here the un- 
wieldy unity of a family or national combination ; but, in the 
presence of scenery and displays of elemental power broken 
up into fragmentary forms, men's attention is more largely 
directed to themselves, and to the extension of their imma- 
ture capabilities. Thus we see the Greeks — divided and 
separated from each other — -thrown back upon their inner 
spirit and personal energy, yet at the same time most 
variously excited and cautiously circumspect. "We behold 
them quite undetermined and irresolute in the presence 
of Nature, dependent on its contingencies, and listening 
anxiously to each signal from the external world ; but, on 
the other hand, intelligently taking cognizance of and 
appropriating that outward existence, and shewing bold- 
ness and independent vigour in contending with it. These 
are the simple elements of their culture and religion. In 
tracing up their mythological conceptions, we find natural 
objects forming the basis— not en masse, however ; onlv iu 

B 2 



244 PART II. THE GEEEE WOBLD. 

dissevered forms. The Diana of Ephesus (that is, Nature aa. 
the universal Mother), the Cybele and Astarte of Syria, — such 
comprehensive conceptions remained Asiatic, and were not 
transmitted to Grreece. Tor the Greeks only watch the 
objects of Nature, and form surmises respecting them ; in- 
quiring, in the depth of their souls, for the hidden meaning. 
According to Aristotle's dictum, that Philosophy proceeds 
from Wonder, the Grreek view of Nature also proceeds from 
wonder of this kind. Not that in their experience, Spirit meets 
something extraordinary, which it compares with the common 
order of things ; for the intelligent view of a regular course of 
Nature, and the reference of phenomena to that standard, do 
not yet present themselves ; but the Greek Spirit was excited 
to wonder at the Natural in Nature. It does not maintain 
the position of stupid indifference to it as something exist- 
ing, and there an end of it ; but regards it as something in 
the first instance foreign, in which, however, it has a presen- 
timent of confidence, and the belief that it bears something 
within it which is friendly to the human Spirit, and to which 
it may be permitted to sustain a positive relation. This 
JVonder, and this Presentiment, are here the fundamental 
categories ; though the Hellenes did not content themselves 
with these moods of feelings, but projected the hidden mean- 
ing, which was the subject of the surmise, into a distinct con- 
ception as an object of consciousness. The Natural holds 
^ its place in their minds only after undergoing some trans- 
formation by Spirit — not immediately. M&£i regards Nature 
only as an excitement to bis faculties, and only the Spiri- 
tual which he has evolved from it can have any influence 
over him. Nor is this commencement of the Spiritual ap- 
prehension of Nature to be regarded as an explanation 
suggested by us ; it meets us in a multitude of conceptions 
formed by the Greeks themselves. The position of curious 
surmise, of attentive eagerness to catch the meaning of 
Nature, is indicated to us in the comprehensive idea of Pan. 
To the Greeks Pan did not represent the objective Whole, 
but that indefinite neutral ground which involves the ele- 
ment of the subjective ; he embodies that thrill which per- 
vades us in the silence of the forests; he was, therefore, 
especially worshipped in sylvan Ai'cadia : (a " panic terror ** 
is the common expression for a groundless fright). Pan, 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GREEK SPIRIT. 245 

this thrill-exciting being, is also represented as playing on 
the flute ; we have not the bare internal presentiment, for 
Pan makes himself audible on the seven-reeded pipe. In 
what has been stated we have, on the one hand, the Indefinite, 
which, however, holds communication with man ; on the other 
hand the fact, that such communication is only a subjective 
imagining — an explanation furnished by the percipient him- 
self. On the same principle the Grreeks listened to the mur- 
muring of the fountains, and asked what might be thereby 
signified ; but the signification which they were led to attach 
to it was not the objective meaning of the fountain, but the 
subjective — that of the subject itself, which further exalts 
the Naiad to a Muse. The Naiads, or fountains, are the 
external, objective origin of the Muses. Tet the immortal 
songs of the Muses are not that which is heard in the mur- 
muring of the fountains ; they are the productions of the 
thoughtfully listening Spirit — creative while observant. The 
interpretation and explanation of Nature and its trans- 
formations — the indication of their sense and import — is the 
act of the subjective Spirit ; and to this the Grreeks at- 
tached the name fxavTeia. The general idea which this em- 
bodies, is the form in which man realizes his relationship to 
Nature. Mavreta has reference both to the matter of the 
exposition and to the expounder who divines the weighty 
import in question. Plato speaks of it in reference to dreams, 
and to that delirium into which men fall during sickness ; an 
interpreter, fiavrig, is wanted to explain these dreams and 
this delirium. That Nature answered the questions which 
the Greek put to her, is in this converse sense true, that he 
obtained an answer to the questions of Nature from his own 
Spirit. The insight of the Seer becomes thereby purely 
poetical ; Spirit supplies the signification which the natural 
image expresses. Everywhere the Greeks desired a clear pre- 
sentation and interpretation of the Natural. Homer tells us, 
in the last book of the Odyssey, that while the Greeks were 
overwhelmed with sorrow for Achilles, a violent agitation 
came over the sea : the Greeks were on the point of dispersing 
in terror, when the experienced Nestor arose and interpreted 
the phenomenon to them. Thetis, he said, was coming, with 
her nymphs, to lament for the death of her son. When a 
pestilence broke out in the camp of the Greeks, the Priest 



2i6 PAET IT. THE QEEEK WOELD. 

Calclias explained that Apollo was incensed at their not 
having restored the daughter of his priest Chryses when a 
ransom had been offered. The Oracle was originally inter- 
preted exactly in this way. The oldest Oracle was at Do- 
dona (in the district of the modern Janiua). Herodotus 
says that the first priestesses of the temple there, were from 
Egypt ; yet this temple is stated to be an ancient Greek 
one. The rustling of the leaves of the sacred oaks was the 
form of prognostication there. Bowls of metal were also 
suspended in the grove. But the sounds of the bowls 
dashing against each other were quite indefinite, and had no 
objective sense ; the sense —the signification — was imparted 
to the sounds only by the human beings who heard them. 
Thus also the Delphic priestesses, in a senseless, distracted 
state— in the intoxication of enthusiasm (fxavin) — uttered 
unintelligible sounds ; and it was the fxavrig who gave to these 
utterances a definite meaning. In the cave of Trophonius 
the noise of subterranean waters Was heard, and appa- 
ritions were seen : but these indefinite phenomena acquired 
a meaning only through the interpreting, comprehending 
Spirit. It must also be observed, that these excitements of 
Spirit are in the first instance external, natural impulses. 
Succeeding them are internal changes taking place in the 
Imman being himself — such as dreams, or the delirium of the 
Delphic priestess — which require to be made intelligible by 
the fxavTiQ. At the commencement of the Iliad, Achilles 
is excited against Agamemnon, and is on the point of draw- 
ing his sword; but on a sudden he checks the movement of 
his arm, and recollects himself in his wrath, reflecting on his 
relation to Agamemnon. The Poet explains this by saying 
that it was Pallas- Athene (Wisdom or Consideration) that 
restrained him. "When Ulysses among the Phseacians, has 
thrown his discus farther than the rest, and one of the 
Phseacians shews a friendly disposition towards him, the 
Poet recognises in him Pallas- Athene. Such an explanation 
denotes the perception of the inner meaning, the sense, the 
underlying truth; and the poets were in this way the 
teachers of the Greeks — especially Homer. MavTsla in 
fact is Poesy — not a capricious indulgence of fancy, but an 
imagination which introduces the Spiritual into the Natural, 
— in short a richly intelligent perception. The Greek Spirit, 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GEEEK SPIEIT. 247 

on the whole, therefore, is free from superstitioo, since it 
changes the sewswows into the sensible — the Intellectual — so 
that [oracular] decisions are derived from Spirit ; although 
superstition comes in again from another quarter, as will be 
observed when impulsions from another source than the 
Spiritual, are allowed to tell upon opinion and action. 

But the stimuli that operated on the Spirit of the Greeks 
are not to be limited to these objective and subjective ex- 
citements. The traditional element derived from foreign 
countries, the culture, the divinities and ritual observances 
transmitted to them ah extra must also be included. It 
has been long a much vexed question whether the arts and 
the religion of the G-reeks were developed independently 
or through foreign suggestion. Under the conduct of a 
one-sided understanding the controversy is interminable ; 
for it is no less a fact of history that the Greeks derived 
conceptions from India, Syria, and Egypt, than that the Greek 
conceptions are peculiar to themselves, and those others 
alien. Herodotus (II. 53) asserts, with equal decision, that 
^^ Homer and Sesiod invented a Theogony for the Greehsy 
and assigned to the gods their appropriate epithets " (a most 
weighty sentence, which has been the subject of deep inves- 
tigation, especially by Creuzer), — and, in another place, 
that Greece took the names of its divinities from Egypt, and 
that the Greeks made inquiry at Dodona, whether they 
ought to adopt these names or not. This appears self-con- 
tradictory : it is, however, quite consistent ; for the fact is 
that the Greeks evolved the Spiritual from the materials 
which they had received. The IS'atural, as explained by 
man, — i. e. its internal essential element — is, as a universal 
principle, the beginning of the Divine. Just as in Art the 
Greeks may have acquired a mastery of technical matters 
from others — from the Egyptians especially — so in their 
religion the commencement might have been from without ; 
but by their independent spirit they transformed the one 
as well as the other. 

Traces of such foreign' rudiments may be generally dis- 
covered (Creuzer, in his " Symbolik," dwells especially on 
this point). The amours of Zeus appear indeed as some- 
thing isolated, extraneous, adventitious, but it may be shewn 
that foreign theogonic representations form their basis. 



248 PART II. THE OBEEE WORLD. 

Hercules is, among the Hellenes, that Spiritual Humanity 
which by native energy attains Olympus through the twelve 
far-famed labours : but the foreign idea that lies at the 
basis is the Sun, completing its revolution through the 
tw?lve signs of the Zodiac. The Mysteries were only such 
ancient rudiments, and certainly contained no greater wis- 
dom than already existed in the consciousness of the Greeks. 
All Athenians were initiated in the mysteries — Socrates ex- 
cepted, who refused initiation, because he knew well that 
science and art are not the product of mysteries, and that 
AVisdom never lies among arcana. True science has its 
place much rather in the open field of consciousness. 

In summing up the constituents of the Greek Spirit, we 
find its fundamental characteristic to be, that the freedom of 
Spirit is conditioned by and has an essential relation to some 
stimulus supplied by Nature. Grreek freedom of thought is 
excited by an alien existence ; but it is free because it trans- 
forms and virtually reproduces the stimulus by its own opera- 
tion. This phase of Spirit is the medium between the loss 
of individuality on the part of man (such as we observe in 
the Asiatic principle, in which the Spiritual and Divine 
exists only under a Natural form), and Infinite Subjectivity 
as pure certainty of itself — the position that the Ego is the 
ground of all that can lay claim to substantial existence. The 
Greek Spirit as the medium between these two, begins with 
Nature, but transforms it into a mere objective form of its 
(Spirit's) own existence ; Spirituality is therefore not yet 
absolutely free ; not yet absolutely seZ/'-produced, — is not self- 
stimulation. Setting out from surmise and wonder, the Greek 
Spirit advances to definite conceptions of the hidden mean- 
ings of Nature. In the subject itself too, the same harmony 
is produced. In Man, the side of his subjective existence 
which he owes to Nature, is the Heart, the Disposition, Pas- 
sion, and Variety of Temperament : this side is then deve- 
loped in a spiritual direction to free Individuality ; so that the 
character is not placed in a relation to universally valid 
moral authorities, assuming the form of duties, bufc the 
Moral appears as a nature peculiar to the individual — an exer- 
tion of will, the result of disposition and individual consti- 
tution. This stamps the Greek character as that of Indi- 
viduality conditioned hy Beauty, which is produced by Spirit, 



SECT. I. THE ELEMENTS OF THE GEEEK SPIRIT. 249 

transforming the merely Natural into an expression of its 
own being. The activity of Spirit does not yet possess in 
itself the material and organ of expression, but needs the 
excitement of Nature and the matter which Nature supplies: 
it is not free, self-determining Spirituality, but mere natural- 
ness formed to Spirituality — Spiritual Individuality. The 
Greek Spirit is the plastic artist, forming the stone into a 
work of art. In this formative process the stone does not 
remain mere stone, — the form being only superinduced from 
without ; but it is made an expression of the Spiritual, even 
contrary to its nature, and thus transformed. Conversely, the 
artist needs for his spiritual conceptions, stone, colours, 
sensuous forms to express his idea. Without such an element 
he can no more be conscious of the idea himself, than give it 
an objective form for the contemplation of others ; since 
it cannot in Thought alone become an object to him. The 
Egyptian Spirit also was a similar labourer in Matter, but 
the Natural had not yet been subjected to the Spiritual. 
No advance was made beyond a struggle and contest with 
it; the Natural still took an independent position, and 
formed one side of the image, as in the body of the Sphinx. 
In G-reek Beauty the Sensuous is only a sign, an expression, 
an envelope, in which Spirit manifests itself. 

It must be added, that while the Greek Spirit is a trans- 
forming^artistof thisjnnd, it knows itself free in its pro- 
ductionST^for it Is their creator, and they are what is called 
the " work of man." They are, however, not merely this, 
but Eternal Truth — the energizing of Spirit in its innate 
essence, and quite as really not created as created by man. 
He has a respect and veneration for these conceptions and 
images, — this Olympian Zeus— this Pallas of the Acropolis, — 
and in the same way for the laws, political and ethical, that 
guide his actions. But He, the human being, is the womb 
that conceived them, he the breast that suckled them, he the 
Spiritual to which their grandeur and purity is owing. Thus 
he feels himself calm in contemplating them, and not only 
free in himself, but possessing the consciousness of his 
freedom ; thus the honour of the Human is swallowed up in 
the worship of the Divine. Men honour the Divine in and for 
itself, but at the same time as their deed, their production, 
their phenomenal existence ; thus the Divine receives its 



250 PAKT II. THE GEEEK WOELD. 

honour through the respect paid to the Human, and the 
Human in virtue of the honour paid to the Divine. 

Such are the qualities of that Beautiful Individuality^ 
which constitutes the centre of the Greek character. We 
must now consider the several radiations which this idea 
throws out in realizing itself. All issue in works of art, and 
we may arrange under three heads : the subjective work of 
art, that is, the culture of the man himself ; —the objective 
work of art, i.e., the shaping of the world of divinities ; — 
lastly, the political work of art — the form of the Constitution, 
and the relations of the Individuals who compose it. 



SECTION II. 
PHASES OF INDIVIDUALITY J5STHETICALLY CONDITIONED. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE SUBJECTIVE WORK OF ART. 

Man with his necessities sustains a practical relation to 
external Nature, and in making it satisfy his desires, and 
thus using it up, has recourse to a system of means. Eor 
natural objects are powerful, and offer resistance in various 
ways. In order to subdue them, man introduces other 
natural agents; thus turns Nature against itself, and 
invents instruments for this purpose. These human inven- 
tions belong to Spirit, and such an instrument is to be 
respected more than a mere natural object. We see, too, 
that the Greeks are accustomed to set an especial value 
upon them, for in Homer, man's delight in them appears in 
a very striking way. In the notice of Agamemnon's sceptre, 
its origin is given in detail : mention is made of doors which 
turn on hinges, and of accoutrements and furniture, in a 
way that expresses satisfaction. Tlae honour of human 
invention in subjugating Nature is ascribed to the gods. 

But, on the other hand, man uses Nature for ornament, 
which is intended only as a token of wealth and of that which 
mau has made of himself. We find Ornament, in this 



SECT. II. CHAP. I. THE SXTBJECTIVE WORK OF AET. 251 

interest, already very much developed among the Homeric 
Greeks. It is true tliat both barbarians and civilized 
nations ornament themselves ; but barbarians content them- 
selves with mere ornament ; — they intend their persons to 
please by an external addition. But ornament by its very 
nature is destined only to beautify something other than 
itself, viz. the human body, which is man's immediate envi- 
ronment, and which, in common with Nature at large, he 
has to transform. The spiritual interest of primary import- 
ance is, therefore, the development of the body to a perfect 
organ for the Will — an adaptation which may on the one 
hand itself be the means for ulterior objects, and on the other 
hand, appear as an object per se. Among the G-reeks, then, 
we find this boundless impulse of individuals to display 
themselves, and to find their enjoyment in so doing. Sen- 
suous enjoyment does not become the basis of their condition 
when a state of repose has been obtained, any more than the 
dependence and stupor of superstition which enjoyment 
entails. They are too powerfully excited, too much bent upon 
developing their individuality, absolutely to adore Nature, 
as it manifests itself in its aspects of power and beneficence. 
That peaceful condition which ensued when a predatory life 
had been relinquished, and liberal nature had afforded 
security and leisure, turned their energies in the direction 
of self-assertion — the effort to dignify themselves. But 
while on the one side they have too much independent per- 
sonality to be subjugated by superstition, that sentiment has 
not gone to the extent of making them vain ; on the con- 
trary, essential conditions must be first satisfied, before 
this can become a matter of vanity with them. The exhilara- 
ting sense of personality, in contrast with sensuous sub- 
jection to nature, and the need, not of mere pleasure, but of 
the display of individual powers, in order thereby to gain 
special distinction and consequent enjoyment, constitute 
therefore the chief characteristic and principal occupation of 
the Greeks. Free as the bird singing in the sky, the indi- 
vidual only expresses what lies in his untrammelled human 
nature, — [to give the world " assurance of a man "],— to have 
his importance recognized. This is the subjective beginning 
of Greek Art,— in which the human being elaborates his 
physical being, in free, beautiful movement and agih vigour, 



252 PAET II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

to a work of art. The Greeks first trained their own 
persons to beautiful configurations before they attempted 
the expression of such in marble and in paintings. The 
innocuous contests of games, in which every one exhibits his 
powers, is of very ancient date. Homer gives a noble descrip- 
tion of the games conducted by Achilles, in honour of Patro- 
• clus : but in all his poems there is no notice of statues of the 
I gods, though he mentions the sanctuary at Dodona, and the 
treasure-house of Apollo at Delphi. The games in Homer 
consist in wrestling and boxing, running, horse and chariot 
races, throwing the discus or javelin, and archery. With 
these exercises are united dance and song, to express and 
form part of the enjoyment of social exhilaration, and which 
arts likewise blossomed into beauty. On the shield of 
Achilles, Hephaestus represents, among other things, how 
beautiful youths and maidens move as quickly " with well- 
taught feet," as the potter turns his wheel. The multitude 
stand round enjoying the spectacle ; the divine singer accom- 
panies the song with the harp, and two chief dancers perform 
their evolutions in the centre of the circle. 

These games and aesthetic displays, with the pleasures and 
honours that accompanied them, were at the outset only 
private, originating in particular occasions ; but in the 
sequel they became an affair of the nation, and were fixed 
for certain times at appointed places. Besides the Olympic 
games in the sacred district of EHs, there were also held the 
Isthmian, the Pythian, and Nemean, at other places. 

If we look at the inner nature of these sports, we shall 
first observe how Sport itself is opposed to serious business, 
to dependence and need. This wrestling, running, contend- 
ing was no serious affair ; bespoke no obligation of defence, 
no necessity of combat. Serious occupation is labour that 
has reference to some want. I or Nature must succumb ; if 
the one is to continue, the other must fall. In contrast 
with this kind of seriousness, however. Sport presents the 
higher seriousness ; for in it Nature is wrought into Spirit, 
and although in these contests the subject has not ad- 
vanced to the highest grade of serious thought, yet in this 
exercise of his physical powers, man shews his Freedom, viz. 
that he has transformed his body to an organ of Spirit. 
Man has immediately in one of his organs, the Yoice, au 



SECT. II. CHAP. II. THE OBJECTIVE WOEK OF AET. 253 

element which admits and requires a more extensive purport 
than the mere sensuous Present. We have seen how Song 
is united with the Dance, and ministers to it : but, subse- 
quently Song makes itself independent, and requires musical 
instruments to accompany it ; it then ceases to be unmean- 
ing, like the modulations of a bird, which may indeed express 
emotion, but which have no objective import ; but it requires 
an import created by imagination and Spirit, and which is 
then further formed into an objective work of art. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE OBJECTIVE WORK OF ART. 

If the subject of Song as thus developed among the Grreeks 
is made a question, we should say that its essential and 
absolute purport is religious. We have examined the Idea 
embodied in the Grreek Spirit ; and Eeligion is nothing else 
than this Idea made objective as the essence of being. 
According to that Idea, we shall observe also that the Divine 
involves the vis natures only as an element suffering a pro- 
cess of transformation to spiritual power. Of this Natural 
Element, as its origin, nothing more remains than the accord 
of analogy involved in the representations they formed of 
Spiritual power ; for the Grreeks worshipped God as Spiri- 
tualy/'We cannot, therefore, regard the Greek divinity as 
similar to the Indian — some Power of Nature for which 
the human shape supplies only an outward form. The 
essence is the Spiritual itself, and the JN'atural is only the 
point of departure. But on the other hand, it must be ob- 
served, that the divinity of the Greeks is not yet the absolute, 
free Spirit, but Spirit in a particular mode, fettered by the 
limitations of humanity — still dependent as a determinate 
individuality on external conditions./^Individualities, objec- 
tively beautiful, are the gods of the Greeks. The divine 
Spirit is here so conditioned as to be not yet regarded as 
abstract Spirit, but has a specialized existence — continues to 
manifest itself in sense ; but so that the sensuous is not its 
substance, but is only an element of its manifestation. This 



254 PABT II. THE QEEEK WOELD. 

must be our leading idea in the consideration of the Greek 
my thology^^ and we must have our attention fixed upon it so 
much the tnore firmly, as — partly through the influence of 
erudition, which has whelmed essential principles beneath 
an infinite amount of details, and partly through that de- 
structive analysis which is the work of the abstract Under- 
standing — this mythology, together with the more ancient 
periods of G-reek history, has become a region of the greatest 
intellectual confusion. 

In the Idea of the Greek Spirit we found the two ele- 
ments, Nature and Spirit, in such a relation to each other, 
that Nature forms merely the point of departure. This 
degradation of Nature is in the Greek mythology the turn- 
ing point of the whole, — expressed as the War of the G-ods, 
the overthrow of the Titans by the race of Zeus. The 
transition from the Oriental to the Occidental Spirit is 
therein represented, for the Titans are the merely Physical — 
natural existences, from whose grasp sovereignty is wrested. 
It is true that they continue to be venerated, but not as_ 
governing powers ; for they are relegated to the verge [the 
limbus] of the world. The Titans are powers of Nature, 
Uranus, Gxa, Oceanus, Selene, Helios, &c. Chronos ex- 
presses the dominion of abstract Time, which devours its 
children. The unlimited power of reproduction is restrained, 
and Zeus appears as the head of the new divinities, who 
embody a spiritual import, and are themselves Spirit. * It 
is not possible to express this transition more distinctly and 
naively than in this myth; the new dynasty of divinities 
proclaim their peculiar nature to be of a Spiritual order. 

Tlie second point is, that the new divinities retain natural 
elements, and consequently in themselves a determinate re- 
lation to the powers of Nature, as was previously shewn. 
Zeus has his lightnings and clouds, and Hera is the creatress 
of the Nattcral, the producer of crescent vitality. Zeus is also 
the political god, the protector of morals and of hospitality. 
Oceanus, as such, is only the element of Nature which his 
name denotes. Poseidon has still the wildness of that ele- 
ment in his character ; but he is also an ethical personage ; to 

* Sc(' Hegel's " Vorles. iiber die Philos. der Religion," II. p. IOC sqij 
(2nd edition.) 



SECT. II. CHAP. II. THE OBJECTIVE WOEK OF AET. 255 

him is ascribed tlie building of walls and tbe production of 
the Horse. Helios is the sun as a natural element. This, 
Light, according to the analogy of Spirit, has been transformed 
to self-consciousness, and Apollo has proceeded from Heli^ogJ^ 
The name Avkeloq points to the connection with light ; 
Apollo was a herdsman in the employ of Admetus, but oxen 
not subjected to the yoke were sacred to Helios : his rays, 
represented as arrows, kill the Python. The idea of Light 
as the natural power constituting the basis of the represen- 
tation, cannot be dissociated from this divinity; especially as 
the other predicates attached to it are easily united with it, 
and the explanations of Miiller and others, who deny that 
basis, are much more arbitrary and far-fetched. For Apollo 
is the prophesying and discerning god — Light, that makes 
everything clear. He is, moreover, the healer and strength- 
ener; as also the destroyer, for he kills men. He is the 
propitiating and purifying god, e.y., in contravention of the 
Eumenides — the ancient subterrene divinities — who exact 
hard, stern justice. He himself is pure ; he has no wife, but 
only a sister, and is not involved in various disgusting adven- 
tures, like Zeus ; moreover, he is the discerner and declarer, 
the singer and leader of the dances — as the sun leads the 
harmonious dance of stars. — In like manner the Kaiads 
became the Muses. The mother of the gods, Cybeie — con- 
tinuing to be worshipped at Ephesus as Artemis — is scarcely 
to be recognized as the Artemis of the G-reeks — the chaste 
huntress and destroyer of wild beasts. Should it be said 
that this change of the Natural into the Spiritual is owing 
to our allegorizing, or that of the later Greeks, we may 
reply, that this transformation of the Natural to the 
Spiritual is the Greek Spirit itself. The epigrams of the 
Greeks exhibit such advances from the Sensuous to the 
Spiritual. But the abstract Understanding cannot compre- 
hend this blending of the Natural with the Spiritual. 

It must be further observed, that the Greek gods are to be 
regarded as individualities, — not abstractions, like " Know- 
ledge," '' Unity," " Time," " Heaven," " Necessity." Such 
abstractions do not form the substance of these divinities ; 
they are no allegories, no abstract beings, to which various 
attributes are attached, like the Horatian " Necessitas clavis 
trabalibus." As little are the divinities symbols, for a 



256 PAET II. THE GUEEK WOEID. 

symbol is only a sign, an adumbration of something else. 
The Greek gods express of themselves what they are. The 
eternal repose and clear intelligence that dignifies the head 
of Apollo, is not a symbol, but the expression in which 
Spirit manifests itself, and shews itself present. The gods 
are personalities, concrete individualities : an allegorical 
being has no qualities, but is itself one quality and no more. 
The gods are, moreover, special characters, since in each of 
them one peculiarity predominates as the characteristic one ; 
but it would be vain to try to bring this circle of characters 
into a system. Zeus, perhaps, may be regarded as ruling 
the other gods, but not with substantial power ; so that 
they are left free to their own idiosyncrasy. Since the 
whole range of spiritual and moral qualities was appro- 
priated by the gods, the unity, which stood above them all, 
necessarily remained abstract ; it was therefore formless 
and unmeaning Fact, [the absolute constitution of things] — 
Necessity, whose oppressive character arises from the ab- 
sence of the Spiritual in it ; whereas the gods hold a friendly 
relation to men, for they are Spiritual natures. That higher 
thought, the knowledge of Unity as Grod,— the One Spirit, 
— lay beyond that grade of thought which the Grreeks had 
attained. 

With regard to the adventitious and special that attaches 
to the G-reek gods, the question arises, where the external 
origin of this adventitious element is to be looked for. It 
arises partly from local characteristics — the scattered con- 
dition of the Greeks at the commencement of their national 
life, fixing as this did on certain points, and consequently 
introducing local representations. The local divinities stand 
alone, and occupy a much greater extent than they do after- 
wards, when they enter into the circle of the divinities, and 
are reduced to a limited position ; they are conditioned 
by the particular consciousness and circumstances of the 
countries in which they appear. There are a multitude of 
Herculeses and Zeuses, that have their local history like the 
Indian gods, who also at different places possess temples to 
which a peculiar legend attaches. A similar relation occurs 
in the case of the Catholic saints and their legends ; though 
here, not the several localities, but the one " Mater Dei " 
supplies the point of departure, being afterwards localized in 



SECT. II. CHAP. II. THE OBJECTIVE WOEK OF AET. 257 

the most diversified modes. The Greeks relate the liveliest 
and most attractive stories of their gods, — to which no limit 
can be assigned, since rich fancies were always gushing 
forth anew in the living Spirit of the G-reeks. A second 
source from which adventitious specialities in the conception 
of the gods arose is that Worship of Nature, whose repre- 
sentations retain a place in the Greek myths, as certainly as 
they appear there also in a regenerated and transfigured con- 
dition. The preservation of the original myths, brings us 
to the famous chapter of the ^^ Mysteries^'' already men- 
tioned. These mysteries of the Greeks present something 
which, as unknown, has attracted the curiosity of all times, 
under the supposition of profound wisdom. It must first 
be remarked that their antique and primary character, 
in virtue of its very antiquity, shews their destitution of 
excellence, — their inferiority ; — that the more refined truths 
are not expressed in these mysteries, and that the view 
which many have entertained is incorrect, viz. — that the 
Unity of God, in opposition to polytheism, was taught in 
them. The mysteries were rather antique rituals ; and it is 
as unhistorical as it is foolish, to assume that profound 
philosophical truths are to be found there ; since, on the con- 
trary, only natural ideas — ruder conceptions of the metamor- 
phoses occurring everywhere in nature, and of the vital prin- 
ciple that pervades it— were the subjects of those mysteries. 
If we put together all the historical data pertinent to the 
question, the result we shall inevitably arrive at will be that 
the mysteries did not constitute a system of doctrines, but 
were sensuous ceremonies and exhibitions, consisting of 
symbols of the universal operations of Nature, as, e.g.^ the 
relation of the earth to celestial phenomena. The chief 
basis of the representations of Ceres and Proserpine, Bac- 
chus and his train, was the universal principle of Nature ; 
and the accompanying details were obscure stories and re- 
presentations, mainly bearing on the universal vital force 
and its metamorphoses. An analogous process to that of 
Nature, Spirit has also to undergo ; for it must be twice- 
born, i.e., abnegate itself; and thus the representations 
given in the mysteries called attention, though only feebly, 
to the nature of Spirit. In the Greeks they produced an 
emotion of shuddering awe ; for an instinctive dread cornea 



258 PART II. THE GEEEK WOELD. 

over men, when a signification is perceived in a form, whicl: 
as a sensuous phenomenon does not express that signification, 
and which therefore both repels and attracts, — awakes sur- 
mises by the import that reverberates through the whole, 
but at the same time a thrill of dread at the repellent form, 
^schylus was accused of having profaned the mysteries in 
his tragedies. The indefinite representations and symbols 
of the Mysteries, in which the profound import is ordy sur- 
mised, are an element alien to the clear pure forms, and 
threaten them with destruction ; on which account the gods 
of Art remain separated from the gods of the Mysteries, and 
the two spheres must be strictly dissociated. Most of their 
gods the Greeks received from foreign lands, — as Herodotus 
states expressly with regard to Egypt, — but these exotic 
myths were transformed and spiritualized by the Greeks ; 
and that part of the foreign theogonies which accompanied 
them, was, in the mouth of the Hellenes, worked up into a 
legendary narrative which often redounded to the disadvan- 
tage of the divinities. Thus also the brutes which con- 
tinued to rank as gods among the Egyptians, were degraded 
to external signs, accompanying the Spiritual god. While 
they have each an individual character, the Greek gods are 
also represented as human, and this anthropomorphism 
is charged as a defect. On the contrary (we may imme- 
diately rejoin) man as the Spiritual constitutes the element 
of truth in the Greek gods, which rendered them superior to 
all elemental deities, and all mere abstractions of the One and 
Highest Being. On the other side ^t is alleged as an advan- 
tage of the Greek gods, that they are represented as men 
— that being regarded as not the case with the Christian 
God. Schiller says : 

" While the gods remained more human, 
The men were more divine.** 

But the Greek gods must not be regarded as more human 
than the Christian God. Christ is much more a Man : he 
lives, dies — suffers death on the cross,— which is infinitely 
more human than the humanity of the Greek Idea of the 
Beautiful. But in referring to this common element of the 
Greek and the Christian religion, it must be said of both, 
that if a manifestation of God is to be supposed at all, his 



SECT. II. CHAP. II. THE 03UECTITE WOEK OF AET. 259 

natural form must be that of Spirit, which for sensuous 
conception is essentially the human ; for no other form can 
lay claim to spirituality. | Grod appears indeed in the sun, 
in the mountains, in the trees, in everything that has life ; but 
a natural appearance of this kind, is not the form proper to 
Spirit: here God is cognizable only in the mind of the per- 
cipient. If Grod himself is to be manifested in a corres- 
ponding expression, that can only be the human form : for 
from this the Spiritual beams forth. But if it were asked : 
Does God necessarili/ manifest himself ? the question must 
be answered in the affirmative ; for there is no essen- 
tial existence that does not manifest itself. The real 
defect of the Greek religion, as compared with the Chris- 
tian, is, therefore, that in the former the manifestation con- 
stitutes the highest mode in which the Divine being is 
conceived to exist — the sum and substance of divinity ; 
while in the Christian religion the manifestation is regarded 
only as a temporary phase of the Divine. Here the manifested 
God dies, and elevates himself to glory ; only after death 
is Christ represented as sitting at the right hand of God. 
The Greek god, on the contrary, exists for his worshippers 
perennially in the manifestation — only in marble, in metal 
or wood, or as figured by the imagination. But why did God 
not appear to the Greeks in the flesh ? Because man was 
not duly estimated, did not obtain honour and dignity, till ho 
had more fully elaborated and developed himself in the 
attainment of the Freedom implicit in the gesthetic mani- 
festation in question ; the form and shaping of the divinity 
therefore continued to be the product of individual views, 
[not a general, impersonal one]., One element in Spirit is 
that it produces itself — mahes itself what it is : and the othei 
is, that it is originally free — that Freedom is its natv/re and 
its Idea. But the Greeks, since they had not attained an 
intellectual conception of themselves, did not yet realize Spirit 
in its Universality — had not the idea of man and the essential 
unity of the divine and human nature according to the 
Christian view. Only the self-reliant, truly subjective Spirit 
can bear to dispense with the phenomenal side, and can 
venture to assign the Divine Nature to Spirit alone. It 
then no longer needs to inweave the Natural into its idea of 
the Spiritual, in ojder to hold fast its conception of tha 



260 PART II. ilffii GfiBiiK WORLD. 

Divine, and to have its unity with the Divine, externally 
visible ; but while free Thought thinks the Phenomenal, it is 
content to leave it as it is ; for it also thinks that union of the 
rinite and the Infinite, and recognizes it not as a mere 
accidental union, but as the Absolute — the eternal Idea 
itself. Since Subjectivity was not comprehended in all its 
depth by the G-reek Spirit, the true reconciliation was not 
attained in it, and the human Spirit did not yet assert its 
true position. This defect shewed itself in the fact of Fate 
as pure subjectivity appearing superior to the gods ; it also 
shews itself in the fact, that men derive their resolves not 
yet from themselves, but from their Oracles. Neither human 
nor divine sabjectivity, recognized as infinite, has as yet, ab- 
solutely decisive authority. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE POLITICAL WOEK OF ART. 

The State unites the two phases just considered, viz., the 
Subjective and the Objective Work of Art. In the State, 
Spirit is not a mere Object, like the deities, nor, on the other 
haild, is it merely subjectively developed to a beautiful phy- 
sique. It is here a living, universal Spirit, but which is at 
the same time the self-conscious Spirit of the individuals 
composing the community. 

The Democratical Constitution alone was adapted to the 
Spirit and political condition in question. In the East we 
recognized Despotism, developed in magnificent proportions, 
as a form of government strictly appropriate to the Dawn- 
Land of History. Not less adapted is the democratical form 
in Greece, to the part assigned to it in the same great drama. 
In Greece, viz., we have the freedom of the Individual, but 
it has not yet advanced to such a degree of abstraction, that 
the subjective unit is conscious of direct dependence on 
the [general] substantial principle — the State as such. In 
this grade of Freedom, the individual will is unfettered in 
the entire range of its vitality, and embodies that substantial 
principle, [the bond of the political union], according tc 



SECT. II. CHAP. III. THE POLITICAL WORK OF ART. 2G1 

its particular idiosyncrasy. In E.ome, on the other hand, 
we shall observe a harsh sovereignty dominating over the 
individual members of the State ; as also in the Grerman 
Empire, a monarchy, in which the Individual is connected 
with and has devoirs to perform not only in regard to the 
monarch, but to the whole monarchical organization. 

The Democratical State is not Patriarchal, — does not rest 
on a still unreflecting, undeveloped confidence, — but implies 
laws, with the consciousness of their being founded on an 
equitable and moral basis, and the recognition of these laws 
as positive. At the time of the Kings, no political life had 
as yet made its appearance in Hellas ; there are, therefore, 
only slight traces of Legislation. But in the interval from 
the Trojan War till near the time of Cyrus, its necessity 
was felt. The first Lawgivers are known under the name of 
The Seven Sages, — a title which at that time did not imply 
any such character as that of the Sophists — teachers of 
wisdom, designedly [and systematically] proclaiming the 
Eight and True— but merely thinking men, whose thinking 
stopped short of Science, properly so called. They were 
practical politicians ; the good counsels which two of 
them — Thales of Miletus and Bias of Priene— gave to the 
Ionian cities, have been already mentioned. Thus Solon was 
commissioned by the Athenians to give them laws, as those 
then in operation no longer sufficed. Solon gave the Athe- 
nians a constitution by which aR obtained equal rights, 
yet not so as to render the Democracy a quite abstract 
one. The main point in Democracy is moral disposition. 
Virtue is the basis of Democracy, remarks Montesquieu ; and 
this sentiment is as important as it is true in reference to 
the idea of Democracy commonly entertained. The Sub- 
stance, [the Principle] of Justice, the common weal, the 
general interest, is the main consideration ; but it is so only 
as Custom, in the form of Objective "Will, so that morality 
properly so called — subjective conviction and intention — has 
not yet manifested itself. Law exists, and is in point of sub- 
stance, the Law of Freedom, — rational [in its form and pur- 
port,] and valid because it is Law, i.e. without ulterior 
sanction. As in Beauty the Natural element— its sensuous 
coefficient —remains, so also in this customary morality, laws 
assume the form of a necessity of Nature. The Greeks oc- 



262 PAET II. THE GREEK WOBLO. 

cupy the middle ground of Beauty and have not yet attained 
the higher stand-point of Truth. "While Custom and Wont 
is the form in which the Eight is willed and done, that form 
is a stable one, and has not yet admitted into it the foe of 
[unreflected] immediacy — reflection and subjectivity of 
Will. The interests of the community may, therefore, con- 
tinue to be entrusted to the will and resolve of the citizens, 
— and tliis must be the basis of the Greek constitution ; for 
no principle has as yet manifested itself, which can contra- 
vene such Choice conditioned by Custom, and hinder its 
realizing itself in action. The Democratic Constitu- 
tion is here the only possible one : the citizens are still un- 
conscious of particular interests, and therefore of a corrupt- 
ing element : the Objective Will is in their case not disin- 
tegrated. Athene the goddess is Athens itself,— i.e., the 
real and concrete spirit of the citizens. The divinity ceases 
to inspire their life and conduct, only when the Will has re- 
treated within itself — into the adytum of cognition and con- 
science, — and has posited the infinite schism between the 
Subjective and the Objective. The above is the true position 
of the Democratic polity ; its justification and absolute neces- 
sity rests on this still immanent Objective Morality. For the 
modern conceptions of Democracy this justification cannot be 
pleaded. These provide that the interests of the community, 
the affairs of State, shall be discussed and decided by 
the People ; that the individual members of the community 
shall deliberate, urge their respective opinions, and give their 
votes ; and this on the ground that the interests of the State 
and its concerns are the interests of such individual members. 
All this is very well ; but the essential condition and distinc- 
tion in regard to various phases of Democracy is. What is 
the character of these individual members ? They are abso- 
lutely authorized to assume their position, only in as far as 
their will is still Ohjective Will — not one that wishes this or 
that, not mere "good" will. For good will is something 
particular — rests on the morality of individuals, on their con- 
viction and subjective feeling. That very subjective Freedom 
which constitutes the principle and determines the peculiar 
form of Freedom in our world, — which forms the absolute 
basis of our political and religious life, could not manifest 
itself in Greece otherwise than as a destructive element. 



SECT. II. CHAP. III. THE POLITICAL WOEK OF AST. 263 

Subjectivity was a grade not greatly in advance of that occu- 
pied by the Greek Spirit ; that phase must of necessity soon 
be attained : but it plunged the Greek world into ruin, for 
the polity which that world embodied was not calculated 
for this side of humanity — did not recognize this phase; 
since it had not made its appearance when that polity began 
to exist. Of the Greeks in the first and genuine form of 
their Freedom, we may assert, that they had no conscience ; 
the habit of living for their country without farther [analysis 
or] reflection, was the principle dominant among them. The 
consideration of the State in the abstract — which to our un- 
derstanding is the essential point— was alien to them. Their 
grand object was their country in its living and real aspect ; — 
this actual Athens, this Sparta, these Temples, these Altars, 
this form of social life, this union of fellow-citizens, these 
manners and customs. To the Greek his country was a 
necessary of life, without which existence was impossible. 
It was the Sophists — the "Teachers of Wisdom"— who first 
introduced subjective reflection, and the new doctrine that 
each man should act according to his own conviction. When 
reflection once comes into play, the inquiry is started 
whether the Principles of Law (das Eecht) cannot be im- 
proved. Instead of holding by the existing state of things, 
internal conviction is relied upon ; and thus begins a sub- 
jective independent Freedom, in which the individual finds 
himself in a position to bring everything to the test of his 
own conscience, even in defiance of the existing constitution. 
Each one has his " principles," and that view which accords 
with his private judgment he regards 2kB practically the best, 
and as claiming practical realization. This decay even Thucy- 
dides notices, when he speaks of every one's thinking that 
things are going on badly when he has not a hand in the 
management. 

To this state of things — in which every one presumes to 
have a judgment of his own — confidence in Great Men i? 
antagonistic. When, in earlier times, the Athenians com- 
mission Solon to legislate for them, or when Lycurgus appears 
at Sparta as lawgiver and regulator of the State, it is evi- 
dently not supposed that the people in general think that 
they know best what is politically right. At a later time 
also, it was distinguished personages of plastic genius in 



264 PAET II. THE OEEEK WORLD. 

whom the people placed their confidence : Cleisthenes, e,g. 
who made the constitution still more democratic than it had 
"been, — Miltiades, Themistocles, Aristides, and Cimon, who 
in the Median wars stand at the head of Athenian affairs, — 
and Pericles, in whom Athenian glory centres as in its focus. 
But as soon as any of these great men had performed what 
was needed, envy intruded — i.e. the recoil of the sentiment 
of equality against conspicuous talent — and he was either 
imprisoned or exiled. Finally, the Sycophants arose among 
the people, aspersing all individual greatness, and reviling 
those who took the lead in public affairs. 

But there are three other points in the condition of the 
Greek republics that must be particularly observed. 

1. With Democracy in that form in which alone it existed 
in Greece, Oracles are intimately connected. To an inde- 
pendent resolve, a consolidated Subjectivity of the Will (in 
which the latter is determined by preponderating reasons) is 
absolutely indispensable ; but the Greeks had not this element 
of strength and vigour in their volition. When a colony 
was to be founded, when it was proposed to adopt the wor- 
ship of foreign deities, or when a general was about to give 
battle to the enemy, the oracles were consulted. Before the 
battle of Platsea, Pausanias took care that an augury should 
be taken from the animals offered in sacrifice, and was in- 
formed by the soothsayer Tisamenus that the sacrifices were 
favourable to the Greeks provided they remained on the 
hither side of the Asopus, but the contrary, if they crossed 
the stream and began the battle. Pausanias, therefore, 
awaited the attack. In their private affairs, too, the Greeks 
came to a determination not so much from subjective con- 
viction as from some extraneous suggestion. With the 
advance of democracy we observe the oracles no longer con- 
sulted on the most important matters, but the particular 
views of popular orators influencing and deciding the policy 
of the State. As at this time Socrates relied upon his 
*' Daemon," so the popular leaders and the people relied on 
their individual convictions in forming their decisions. But 
contemporaneously with this were introduced corruption, 
disorder, and an unintermitted process of change in the 
constitution. 

2. Another circumstance that demands special attention 



SECT. II. CHAP. III. THE POLITICAL WORK OF ART. 265 

here, is the element of Slavery. This was a necessary con- 
dition of an esthetic democracy, where it was the right and 
duty of every citizen to deliver or to listen to orations 
respecting the management of the State in the place of 
public assembly, to take part in the exercises of the Grym- 
nasia, and to join in the celebration of festivals. It was a 
necessary condition of such occupations, that the citizens 
"should be freed from handicraft occupations ; consequently, 
that what among us is performed by free citizens — the work 
of daily life — should be done by slaves. Slavery does not 
cease until the Will has been infinitely self- reflected* — until 
E-ight is conceived as appertaining to every freeman, and the 
term freeman is regarded as a synonyme for man in his 
generic nature as endowed with Keason. But here we still 
occupy the stand-point of Morality as mere Wont and Cus- 
tom, and therefore known only as a peculiarity attaching to a 
certain kind of existence, [not as absolute and universal Law.] 
3. It must also be remarked, thirdly, that such democratic 
constitutions are possible only in small states — states which 
do not much exceed the compass of cities. The whole Polls 
of the Athenians is united in the one city of Athens. Tra- 
dition tells that Theseus united the scattered Demes into an 
integral totality. In the time of Pericles, at the beginning 
of the Peloponnesian War, when the Spartans were march- 
ing upon Attica, its entire population took refuge in the 
city. Only in such cities can the interests of all be similar ; 
in large empires, on the contrary, diverse and conflicting 
interests are sure to present themselves. The living to- 
gether in one city, the fact that the inhabitants see each 
other daily, render a common culture and a living democratic 
polity possible. In Democracy, the main point is that the 
character of the citizen be plastic, all " of a piece." He 
must be present at the critical stages of public business ; he 
must take part in decisive crises with his entire personality, 
— not with his vote merely ; he must mingle in the heat ot 
action, — the passion and interest of the whole man being 
absorbed in the affair, and the warmth with which a resolve 
was made being equally ardent during its execution. That 
unity of opinion to which the whole community must be 

• That is — the Objective and the Subjective Will must be harmonized. 

Tb. 



268 VAET II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

brought [wlien any political step is to be taken,] must bo 
produced in the individual members of the state by oratorical 
suasion. If this were attempted by writing — in an abstract, 
lifeless way — no general fervour would be excited among the 
social units ; and the greater the number, the less weight 
would each individual vote have. In a large empire a gene- 
ral inquiry might be made, votes might be gathered in the 
several communities, and the results reckoned up — as was 
done by the French Convention. But a political existence 
of this kind is destitute of life, and the World is ipso facto 
broken into fragments and dissipated into a mere Paper- 
world. In the French Eevolution, therefore, the rej^ublican 
constitution never actually became a Democracy : Tyranny, 
Despotism, raised its voice under the mask of Freedom 
and Equality. 

We come now to the Second Period of Greek History. 
The first period saw the Greek Spirit attain its sesthetic de- 
velopment and reach maturity — realize its essential ieing. 
The second shews it manifesting itself — exhibits it in its full 
glory as producing a work for the world, asserting its prin- 
ciple in the struggle with an antagonistic force, and trium- 
phantly maintaining it against that attack. 



THE WARS WITH THE PERSIANS. 

The period of contact with the preceding World-His- 
torical people, is generally to be regarded as the second in 
the history of any nation. The World- Historical contact of 
the Greeks was with the Persians ; in that, Greece exhibited 
itself in its most glorious aspect. The occasion of the Me- 
dian wars was the revolt bf the Ionian cities against the 
Persians, in which the Athenians and Eretrians assisted 
them. That which, in particular, induced the Athenians to 
take their part, was the circumstance that the son of Pisis- 
tratus, after his attempts to regain sovereignty in Athens 
had failed in Greece, had betaken himself to the King of 
the Persians. The Father of History has given us a bril- 
liant description of these Median wars, and for the object 
we are now pursuing we need not dwell long upon them. 



BECT. II. THE "WAES AVITH THE PERSIANS. 267 

At the beginning of the Median wars, Lacedsemon was in 
possession of the Hegemony, partly as the result of having 
subjugated and enslaved the free nation of the Messenians, 
partly because it had assisted many Grreek states to expel 
their Tyrants. Provoked by the part the Greeks had taken 
in assisting the lonians against him, the Persian King sent 
heralds to the Grreek cities to require them to give Water 
and Earth, i. e. to acknowledge his supremacy. The Persian 
envoys were contemptuously sent back, and the Lacedaemo- 
nians went so far as to throw them into a well - a deed, 
however, of which they afterwards so deeply repented, as to 
send two Lacedaemonians to Susa in expiation. The Per- 
sian King then dispatched an army to invade Greece. With 
its vastly superior force the Athenians and Plataeans, without 
aid from their compatriots, contended at Marathon under Mil- 
tiades, and gained the victory. Afterwards, Xerxes came down 
upon Greece with his enormous masses of nations (Herodo- 
tus gives a detailed description of this expedition) ; and with 
the terrible array of land-forces was associated the not less 
formidable fleet. Thrace, Macedon, and Thessaly were soon 
subjugated ; but the entrance into Greece Proper — the Pass 
of Thermopylae — was defended by three hundred Spartans 
and seven hundred Thespians, whose fate is well known. 
Athens, voluntarily deserted by its inhabitants, was ravaged ; 
the images of the gods which it contained were " an abomi- 
nation " to the Persians, who worshipped the Amorphous, the 
Unformed. In spite of the disunion of the Greeks, the Per- 
sian fleet was beaten at Salamis ; and this glorious battle-day 
presents the three greatest tragedians of Greece in remark- 
able chronological association : for ^schylus was one of the 
combatants, and helped to gain the victory, Sophocles 
danced at the festival that celebrated it, and on the same 
day Euripides was born. The host that remained in Greece, 
under the command of Mardonius, was beaten at Plataea by 
Pausanias, and the Persian power was consequently broken 
at various points. 

Thus was Greece freed from the pressure which threatened 
to overwhelm it. Greater battles, unquestionably, have been 
fought ; but these live immortal not in the historical records 
of Nations only, but also of Science and of Art — of the 
Noble and the Moral generally. Eor these are World- His- 



268 PART II. THE GREEK WOULD. 

torical victories ; they were the salvation of culture and 
Spiritual vigour, and they rendered the Asiatic principle 
powerless. How often, on other occasions, have not men 
sacrificed everything for one grand ol^ect ! How often have 
not warriors fallen for Duty and Country ! But here we 
are called to admire not only valour, genius and spirit, 
but the purport of the contest — the effect, the result, 
which are unique in their kind. In all other battles a par- 
ticular interest is predominant ; but the immortal fame of the 
Greeks is none other than their due, in consideration of the 
noble cause for wbieh deliverance was achieved. In the history 
of the world it is not the formal [subjective and individual] 
valour that has been displayed, not the so-called merit of the 
combatants, but the importance of the cause itself, that must 
decide the fame of the achievement. In the case before us, 
the interest of the "World's History hung trembling in the 
balance. Oriental despotism — a world united under one 
lord and sovereign— on the one side, and separate states — 
insignificant in extent and resources, but animated by free 
individuality — on the other side, stood front to front in array 
of battle. Never in History has the superiority of spiritual 
power over material bulk — and that of no contemptible 
amount — been made so gloriously manifest. This war, and 
the subsequent development of the states which took the 
lead in it, is the most brilliant period of Greece. Every- 
thing which the Greek principle involved, then reached its 
perfect bloom and came into the light of day. 

The Athenians continued their wars of conquest for a con- 
siderable time, and thereby attained a high degree of prospe- 
rity ; while the Lacedaemonians, who had no naval power, 
remained quiet. The antagonism of Athens and Sparta now 
commences — a favourite theme for historical treatment. It 
may be asserted that it is an idle inquiry, which of these two 
states justly claims the superiority, and that the endeavour 
should rather be, to exhibit each as in its own depart- 
ment a necessary and worthy phase of the Greek Spirit. On 
Sparta's behalf, e. g. many categories may be referred to in 
which she displays excellence ; strictness in point of morals, 
subjection to discipline, &c., may be advantageously cited. 
But the leading principle that characterizes this state is 
Political Virtue, which Atheiss and Sparta have, indeed, in 



SECT. II. ATHElfS. 269 

common, but which in the one state developed itself to a 
work of Art, viz., Free Individuality— in the other retained 
its substantial form. Before we speak of the Peloponnesian 
"War, in which the jealousy of Sparta and Athens broke out 
into a flame, we must exhibit more specifically the funda- 
mental character of the two states — their distinctions in a 
political and moral respect. 



ATHENS. 

We have already become acquainted with Athens as an 
asylum for the inhabitants of the other districts of Grreece, 
in which a very mixed population was congregated. The 
various branches of human industry — agriculture, handi- 
craft, and trade (especially by sea)— were united in Athens, 
but gave occasion to much dissension. An antagonism had 
early arisen between ancient and wealthy families and such 
as were poorer. Three parties, whose distinction had been 
grounded on their local position and the mode of life which 
that position suggested, were then fully recognized. These 
were, the PedisBans— inhabitants of the plain, the rich and 
aristocratic ; the Diacrians — mountaineers, cultivators of the 
vine and olive, and herdsmen, who were the most numerous 
class ; and between the two [in political status and senti- 
ment], the Paralians — inhabitants of the coast — the moderate 
party. The polity of the state was wavering between Aris- 
tocracy and Democracy. Solon effected, by his division into 
four property-classes, a medium between these opposites. 
All these together formed the popular assembly for delibe- 
ration and decision on public affairs ; but the offices of 
government were reserved for the three superior classes. It 
is remarkable that even while Solon was still living and 
actually present, and in spite of his opposition, Pisistratus 
acquired supremacy. The constitution had, as it were, not 
yet entered into the blood and life of the community ; it had 
not yet become the habit of moral and civil existence. But 
it is still more remarkable that Pisistratus introduced no 
legislative changes, and that he presented himself before the 
Areopagus to answer an accusation brought against him. 



270 PAET II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

The rule of Pisistratus and of his sons appears to have been 
needed for repressing the power of great families and factions, 
— for accustoming them to order and peace, and the citizens 
generally, on the other hand, to the Solonian legislation. 
This being accomplished, that rule was necessarily regarded 
as superfluous, and the principles of a free code enter into 
conflict with the power of the Pisistratidae. The Pisistra- 
tidsewere expelled, Hipparchus killed, and Hippias banished. 
Then factions were revived ; the Alcmseonidse, who took the 
lead in the insurrection, favoured Democracy ; on the other 
hand, the Spartans aided the adverse party of Isagoras, 
which followed the aristocratic direction. The Alcmse- 
onidae, with Cleisthenes at their head, kept the upper hand. 
This leader made the constitution still more democratic than 
it had been ; the (f>vXai, of which hitherto there had been 
only four, were increased to ten, and this had the eflect of 
diminishing the influence of the clans. Lastly, Pericles 
rendered the constitution yet more democratic by diminishing 
the essential dignity of the Areopagus, and bringing causes 
that had hitherto belonged to it, before the Demos and the 
[ordinary] tribunals. Pericles was a statesman of plastic* 
antique character : when he devoted himself to public life, 
he renounced private life, withdrew from all feasts and ban- 
quets, and pursued without intermission his aim of being 
useful to the state, — a course of conduct by which he attained 
such an exalted position, that Aristophanes calls him the 
Zeus of Athens. We cannot but admire him in the highest 
degree : he stood at the head of a light-minded but highly 
refined and cultivated people ; the only means by which he 
could obtain influence and authority over them, was his 
personal character and the impression he produced of his 
being a thoroughly noble man, exclusively intent upon the 
weal of the State, and of superiority to his fellow-citizens 
in native genius and acquired knowledge. In force of indivi- 
dual character no statesman can be compared with him. 

•"Plastic," intimating his absolute devotion to statesmanship; the 
latter not being' a mere mechanical addition, but diffused as a vitalizing 
and forviative power through the whole man. The same term is used 
below to distinguish the vitalizing morality that pervades the dramas of 
yEschylus and Sophocles, from the abstract sentimentalities of Euripides. 

Tk. 



SECT. II. ATHENS. 271 

As a general principle, tlie Democratic Constitution 
affords the widest scope for the development of great political 
characters ; for it excels all others in virtue of the fact that 
it not only allows of the display of their powers on the part 
of individuals, but summons them to use those powers for 
the general weal. At the same time, no member of the 
community can obtain influence unless he has the power of 
satisfying the intellect and judgment, as well as the passions 
and volatility of a cultivated people. 

In Athens a vital freedom existed, and a vital equality of 
manners and mental culture ; and if inequality of property 
could not be avoided, it nevertheless did not reach an ex- 
treme. Together with this equality, and within the compass 
of this freedom, all diversities of character and talent, and 
all variety of idiosyncrasy could assert itself in the most 
unrestrained manner, and find the most abundant stimulus 
to development in its environment ; for the predominant 
elements of Athenian existence were the independence of 
the social units, and a culture animated by the Spirit of 
Beauty. It was Pericles who originated the production of 
those eternal monuments of sculpture, whose scanty remains 
astonish posterity ; it was before this people that the dramas 
of ^schylus and Sophocles were performed ; and later on 
those of Euripides — which, however, do not exhibit the 
same plastic moral character, and in which the principle of 
corruption is more manifest. To this people were addressed 
the orations of Pericles : from it sprung a band of men 
whose genius has become classical for all centuries ; for to 
this number belong, besides those already named, Thucy- 
dides, Socrates, Plato, and Aristophanes — the last of whom 
preserved entire the political seriousness of his people at the 
time when it was being corrupted ; and who, imbued with 
this seriousness, wrote and dramatized with a view to his 
country's weal. We recognize in the Athenians great 
industry, susceptibility to excitement, and development of 
individuality within the sphere of Spirit conditioned by the 
morality of Custom. The blame with which we find them 
visited in Xenophon and Plato, attaches rather to that later 
period when misfortune and the corruption of the democracy 
had already supervened. But if we would have the verdict 
of the Ancients on the political life of Athens, we must 



272 PART II. THE GREEK WOELD. 

turn, not to Xenophon, nor even to Plato, but to those who 
had a thorough acquaintance with the state in its full vigour— 
who managed its affairs and have been esteemed its greatest 
leaders — i.e., to its Statesmen. Among these, Pericles is 
the Zeus of the human Pantheon of Athens. Thucydides 
puts into his mouth the most profound description of 
Athenian life, on the occasion of the funeral obsequies of 
the warriors who fell in the second year of the Peloponnesian 
War. He proposes to shew for what a city and in support 
of what interests they had died ; and this leads the speaker 
directly to the essential elements of the Athenian com- 
munity. He goes on to paint the character of Athens, and 
what he says is most profoundly thoughtful, as well as most 
just and true. " We love the beautiful," he says, " but 
without ostentation or extravagance; we philosophize with- 
out being seduced thereby into effeminacy and inactivity 
(for when men give themselves up to Thought, they get 
further and further from the Practical — from activity for the 
public, for the common weal). We are bold and daring; 
but this courageous energy in action does not prevent us 
from giving ourselves an account of what we undertake (we 
have a clear consciousness respecting it) ; among other 
nations, on the contrary, martial daring has its basis in 
deficiency of culture : we know best how to distinguish 
between the agreeable and the irksome; notwithstanding 
which, we do not shrink from perils." Thus Athens ex- 
hibited the spectacle of a state whose existence was essen- 
tially directed to realizing the Beautiful, which had a 
thoroughly cultivated consciousness respecting the serious 
side of public affairs and the interests of Man's Spirit and 
Life, and united with that consciousness, hardy courage and 
practical ability. 



SPARTA. 



Hebe we witness on the other hand rigid abstract virtue, 
— a life devoted to the State, but in which the activity and 
freedom of individuality is put in the back-ground. The 
polity of Sparta is based on institutions which do full justice 
to the interest of the State, but whose object is a lifeless 



SJSCT. II. SPAllTA. 273 

equality — not free movement. The very first steps m 
Spartan History are very different from the early stages of 
Athenian development. The Spartans were Dorians — the 
Athenians lonians ; and this national distinction has an 
influence on their Constitution also. In reference to the 
mode in which the Spartan Slate originated, we observe that 
the Dorians invaded the Peloponnesus with the Heracleidse, 
subdued the indigenous tribes, and condemned them to 
slavery ; for the Helots were doubtless aborigines. The fate 
that had befallen the Helots, was suffered at a later epoch 
by the Messenians; for inhuman severity of this order was 
innate in Spartan character. While the Athenians had a 
family-life, and slaves among them were inmates of the 
house, the relation of the Spartans to the subjugated race 
was one of even greater harshness than that of the Turks to 
the Greeks ; a state of warfare was constantly kept up in 
Lacedsemon. In entering upon office, the Ephors made an 
unreserved declaration of war against the Helots, and the 
latter were habitually given up to the younger Spartans to 
be practised upon in their martial exercises. The Helots 
were on some occasions set free, and fought against the 
enemy ; moreover, they displayed extraordinary valour in 
the ranks of the Spartans ; but on their return they were 
butchered in the most cowardly and insidious way. As in 
a slave-ship the crew are constantly armed, and the greatest 
care is taken to prevent an insurrection, so the Spartans 
exercised a constant vigilance over the Helots, and were 
always in a condition of war, as against enemies. 

Property in land was divided, even according to the con- 
stitution of Lycurgus (as Plutarch relates) into equal parts, 
of which 9000 only belonged to the Spartans — i.e., the 
inhabitants of the city — and 30,000 to the Lacedaemonians 
or Periseci. At the same time it was appointed, in order to 
maintain this equality, that the portions of ground should 
not be sold. But how little such an institution avails to 
effect its object, is proved by the fact, that in the sequel 
Lacedaemon owed its ruin chiefly to the inequality of pos- 
sessions. As daughters were capable of inheriting, many 
estates had come by marriage into the possession of a few 
families, and at last all the landed property was in the hands 
of a limited number ; as if to shew how foolish it is to 

T 



274 PAET II. THE GEEEK WORLD. 

attempt a forced equality, — an attempt which, while iu- 
efFective in realizing its professed object, is also destructive 
of a most essential point of liberty — the free disposition of 
property. Another remarkable feature in the legislation of 
Lycurgus, is his forbidding all money except that made of 
iron — an enactment which necessitated the abolition of all 
foreign business and traffic. The Spartans moreover had no 
naval force — a force indispensable to the support and fur- 
therance of commerce ; and on occasions when such a force 
was required, they had to apply to the Persians for it. 

It was with an especial view to promote similarity of man- 
ners, and a more intimate acquaintance of the citizens with 
each other, that the Spartans had meals in common — a 
community, however, which disparaged family life; for 
eating and drinking is a private affair, and consequently 
belongs to domestic retirement. It was so regarded among 
the Athenians ; with them association was not material but 
spiritual, and even their banquets, as we see from Xenophon 
and Plato, had an intellectual tone. Among the Spartans, 
on the other hand, the costs of the common meal were met 
by the contributions of the several members, and he who 
was too poor to offer such a contribution was consequently 
excluded. 

As to the Political Constitution of Sparta, its basis may 
be called democratic, but with considerable modifications 
which rendered it almost an Aristocracy and Oligarchy. Al 
the head of the State were two Kings, at whose side was a 
Senate {yepovaia), chosen from the best men of the State, 
and which also performed the functions of a court of justice — 
deciding rather in accordance with moral and legal customs, 
than with written laws.* The yepovaia was also the highest 
State-Council — the Council of the Kings, regulating the 
most important affairs. Lastly, one of the highest magis- 
tracies was that of the EpTiors, respecting whose election we 
have no definite information ; Aristotle says that the mode 
of choice was exceedingly childish. We learn from Aristotle 

* Otfried Miiller, in his History of the Dorians, gives too dignified an 
aspect to this fact ; he says that Justice was, as it were, imprinted on 
their minds. But such an imprinting- is always something' indefinite ; 
laws must be writterij that it may be distinctly known what is forbidden 
and what is allowed. 



SECT. II. SPAETA. 275 

that even persons without nobility or property could attain 
this dignity. The Ephors had full authority to convoke 
popular assemblies, to put resolutions to the vote, and to 
propose lavs^s, almost in the same way as the tribuni plebis m. 
Rome. Their power became tyrannical, like that which 
Bobespierre and his party exercised for a time in France. 

"While the Lacedaemonians directed their entire attention 
to the State, Intellectual Culture — Art and Science — was not 
domiciled among them. The Spartans appeared to the rest 
of the Grreeks, stiff, coarse, awkward beings, who could not 
transact business involving any degree of intricacy, or at 
least performed it very clumsily. Thucydides makes the 
Athenians say to the Spartans : " Tou have laws and cus- 
toms which have nothing in common with others; and 
besides this, you proceed, when you go into other countries, 
neither in accordance with these, nor with the traditionary 
usages of Hellas." In their intercourse at home, they were, 
on the whole, honourable ; but as regarded their conduct 
towards other nations, they themselves plainly declared that 
they held their own good pleasure for the Commendable, 
and what was advantageous for the Bight. It is well known 
that in Sparta (as was also the case in Egypt) the taking 
away of the necessaries of life, under certain conditions, 
was permitted ; only the thief must not allow himself 
to be discovered. Thus the two States, Athens and Sparta, 
stand in contrast with each other. The morality of the latter 
is rigidly directed to the maintenance of the State; in the 
former we find a similar ethical relation, but with a cultivated 
consciousness, and boundless activity in the production of 
the Beautiful, — subsequently, of the True also. 

This Grreek morality, though extremely beautiful, attrac- 
tive and interesting in its manifestation, is not the 
highest point of view for Spiritual self-consciousness. It 
wants the form of Infinity, the reflection of thought within 
itself, the emancipation from the Natural element — (the Sen- 
suous that lurks in the character of Beauty and Divinity [as 
comprehended by the Grreeks]) — and from that imme- 
diacy, [that undeveloped simplicity,] which attaches to their 
ethics. Self- Comprehension on the part of Thought is want- 
ing — illimitable Self-Consciousness — demanding, that what is 
regarded by me as Bight and Morality should have its con- 

T 2 



276 PAET II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

firmation in myself — from the testimony of my own Spirit ; 
that the Beautiful (the Idea as manifested in sensuous con- 
templation or conception) may also become the True— an 
inner, supersensuous world. The stand-point occupied by 
that iEsthetic Spiritual Unity which we have just described, 
could not long be the resting-place of Spirit; and the 
element in which farther advance and corruption originated, 
was that of Subjectivity — inward morality, individual reflec- 
tion, and an inner life generally. The perfect bloom of Grreek 
Life lasted only about sixty years — from the Median wars, B.C. 
492, to the Peloponnesian "War, b.c. 431. The principle of 
subjective morality which was inevitably introduced, became 
the germ of corruption, which, however, shewed itself in a 
diiferent form in Athens from that which it assumed in 
Sparta : in Athens, as levity in public conduct, in Sparta, as 
private depravation of morals. In their fall, the Athenians 
shewed themselves not only amiable, but great and noble — 
to such a degree that we cannot but lament it ; among the 
Spartans, on the contrary, the principle of subjectivity 
develops itself in vulgar greed, and issues in vulgar ruin. 



THE PELOPONNESIAN WAR. 



The principle of corruption displayed itself first in the 
external political development — in the contest of the states 
of Greece with each other, and the struggle of factions within 
the cities themselves. The Greek Morality had made Hellas 
unfit to form one common state ; for the dissociation of 
small states from each other, and the concentration in cities, 
where the interest and the spiritual culture pervading the 
whole, could be identical, was the necessary condition of 
that grade of Freedom which the Greeks occupied. It was 
only a momentary combination that occurred in the Trojan 
"War, and even in the Median wars a union could not be 
accomplished. Ait hough the tendency tov^ards such a union 
is discoverable, the bond was but weak, its permanence was 
always endangered by jealousy, and the contest for the 
Hegemony set the States at variance with each other. A 
general outbreak of hostilities in the Peloponnesian "War 
was the consummation. Before it, and even at its com- 



SECT. II. THE PELOPONNESIAN WAE. 277 

mencement, Pericles was at the head of the Athenian nation 
—that people most jealous of its liberty ; it was only his 
elevated personality and great genius that enabled him to 
maintain his position. After the wars with the Mede, 
Athens enjoyed the Hegemony ; a number of allies — partly 
islands, partly towns— were obliged to contribute to the 
supplies required for continuing the war against the Per- 
sians ; and instead of the contribution being made in the 
form of fleets or troops, the subsidy was paid in money. 
Thereby an immense power was concentrated in Athens ; a 
part of the money was expended in great architectural 
works, in the enjoyment of which, since they were products 
of Spirit, the allies had some share. But that Pericles did 
not devote the whole of the money to works of Art, but also 
made provision for the Demos in other ways, was evident 
after his death, from the quantity of stores amassed in 
several magazines, but especially in the naval arsenal. 
Xenophon says: " Who does not stand in need of Athens ? 
Is she not indispensable to all lands that are rich in corn 
and herds, in oil and wine — to all who wish to traffic either 
in money or in mind ? — to craftsmen, sophists, philosophers, 
poets, and all who desire what is worth seeing or hearing 
in sacred and public matters ?" 

In the Peloponnesian War, the struggle was essen- 
tially between, Athens and Sparta. Thucydides has left us 
the history of the greater part of it, and his immortal work 
is the absolute gain which humanity has derived from that 
contest. Athens allowed herself to be hurried into the 
extravagant projects of Alcibiades; and when these had 
already much weakened ber, she was compelled to suc- 
cumb to the Spartans, who were guilty of the treachery of 
applying for aid to Persia, and who obtained from the King 
supplies of money and a naval force. They were also guilty 
of a still more extensive treason, in abolishing democracy in 
Athens and in the cities of G-reece generally, and in giving 
a preponderance to factions that desired oligarchy, but were 
not strong enough to maintain themselves without foreign 
assistance. Lastly, in the peace of Antalcidas, Sparta put 
the finishing stroke to her treachery, by giving over the 
Greek cities in Asia Minor to Persian dominion. 

Lacedaemon had therefore, both by the oligarchies which 



278 PAET II. THE GEEEK WORLD. 

it had set up in various countries, and by the garrisona 
which it maintained in some cities — as, e.g.^ Thebes — ob- 
tained a great preponderance in Grreece. But the Greek 
states were far more incensed at Spartan oppression than 
they had previously been at Athenian supremacy. "With 
Thebes at their head, they cast off the yoke, and the Thebans 
became for a moment the most distinguished people in 
Hellas. But it was to two distinguished men among its 
citizens that Thebes owed its entire power — Pelopidas and 
Epaminondas ; as for the most part in that state we find the 
Subjective preponderant. In accordance with this principle, 
Lyrical Poetry— that which is the expression of subjectivity 
— especially flourished there ; a kind of subjective amenity 
of nature shews itself also in the so-called Sacred Legion 
which formed the kernel of the Theban host, and was re- 
garded as consisting of persons connected by amatory bonds 
\amantes and amati] ; while the influence of subjectivity 
among them was especially proved by the fact, that after the 
death of Epaminondas, Thebes fell back into its former 
position. Weakened and distracted, Grreece could no longer 
find safety in itself, and needed an authoritative prop. In 
the towns there were incessant contests ; the citizens were 
divided into factions, as in the Italian cities of the Middle 
Ages. The victory of one party entailed the banishment of 
the other ; the latter then usually applied to the enemies of 
their native city, to obtain their aid in subjugating it by 
force of arms. The various States could no longer co-exist 
peaceably : they prepared ruin for each other, as well as for 
themselves. 

We have, then, now to investigate the corruption of the 
Grreek world in its profounder import, and may denote the 
principle of that corruption as subjectivity oltaining emanci- 
pation for itself. We see Subjectivity obtruding itself in 
various ways. Thought — the subjectively Universal — 
menaces the beautiful religion of Greece, while the passions 
of individuals and their caprice menace its political constitu- 
tion. In short. Subjectivity, comprehending and mani- 
festing itself, threatens the existing state of things in every 
department — characterized as that state of things is by 
Immediacy [a primitive, unreflecting simplicity]. Thought, 
therefore, appears here as the principle of decay — decay, viz. 



SECT. II. THE PELOPONNESIAN WAE. 279 

of Substantial [prescriptive] morality; for it introduces 
an antithesis, and asserts essentially rational principles. In 
the Oriental states, in which there is no such antithesis, 
moral freedom cannot be realized, since the highest principle 
is [Pure] Abstraction. But when Thought recognizes its 
positive character, as in Greece, it establishes principles; 
and these bear to the real world the relation of Essence to 
Form. Eor the concrete vitality found among the Grreeks, 
is Customary Morality — a life for E-eligion, for the State, 
without farther reflection, and without analysis leading to ab- 
stract definitions, which must lead away from the concrete 
embodiment of them, and occupy an antithetical position to 
that embodiment. Law is part of the existing state of things, 
with Spirit implicit in it. But as soon as Thought arises, 
it investigates the various political constitutions: as the 
result of its investigation it forms for itself an idea of an 
improved state of society, and demands that this ideal should 
take the place of things as they are. 

In the principle of Greek Freedom, inasmuch as it is 
Freedom, is involved the self-emancipation of Thought. We 
observed the dawn of Thought in the circle of men men- 
tioned above under their well-known appellation of the Seven 
Sages. It was they who first uttered general propositions ; 
though at that time wisdom consisted rather in a concrete 
insight [into things, than in the power of abstract conception]. 
Parallel with the advance in the development of Eeligious 
Art and with political growth, we find a progressive 
strengthening of Thought, its enemy and destroyer ; and at 
the time of the Peloponnesian War science was already 
developed. "With the Sophists began the process of reflec- 
tion on the existing state of things, and of ratiocination. 
That very diligence and activity which we observed among 
the Greeks in their practical life, and in the achievement of 
works of art, shewed itself also in the turns and windings 
which these ideas took ; so that, as material things are 
changed, worked up and used for other than their original 
purposes, similarly the essential being of Spirit — what is 
thought and known — is variously handled ; it is made an object 
about which the mind can employ itself, and this occupation 
becomes an interest in and for itself. The movement of 
Thought — that which goes on within its sphere [without 



280 PAET II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

reference to an extrinsic object] — a process which had for- 
merly no interest — acquires attractiveness on its own ac- 
count. The cultivated Sophists, who were not erudite or 
scientific men, but masters of subtle turns of thought, 
excited the admiration of the Grreeks. For all questions 
they had an answer ; for all interests of a political or re- 
ligious order they had general points of view ; and in the 
ultimate development of their art, they claimed the ability 
to prove everything, to discover a justifiable side in every 
position. In a democracy it is a matter of the first importance, 
to be able to speak in popular assemblies — to urge one's 
opinions on public matters. Now this demands the power 
of duly presenting before them that point of view which we 
desire them to regard as essential. For such a purpose, 
intellectual culture is needed, and this discipline the G-reeks 
acquired under their Sophists. This mental culture then 
became the means, in the hands of those who possessed it, 
of enforcing their views and interests on the Demos : the 
expert Sophist knew how to turn the subject of discussion 
this way or that way at pleasure, and thus the doors were 
thrown wide open to all human passions. A leading prin- 
ciple of the Sophists was, that " Man is the measure of all 
things;" but in this, as in all their apophthegms, lurks an 
ambiguity, since the term " Man " may denote Spirit in its 
depth and truth, or in the aspect of mere caprice and 
private interest. The Sophists meant Man simply as sub- 
jective, and intended in this dictum of theirs, that mere 
liking was the principle of Eight, and that advantage to the 
individual was the ground of final appeal. This Sophistic prin- 
ciple appears again and again, though under different forms, 
in various periods of History ; thus even in our own times 
subjective opinion of what is right — mere feeling — is made 
the ultimate ground of decision. 

In Beauty, as the Greek principle, there was a concrete 
unity of Spirit, united with Heality, with Country and 
Family, &c. In this unity no fixed point of view had 
as yet been adopted within the Spirit itself, and Thought, 
as far as it transcended this unity, was still swayed by mere 
liking ; [the Beautiful, the Becoming (to Trpiirov) conducted 
men in the path of moral propriety, but apart from this they 
bad no firm abstract principle of Truth and Virtue]. But 



SECT. II. THE PELOPONNESIAN WAE. 281 

Anaxagoras himself had taught, that Thought itself was the 
absolute Essence of the "World. And it was in Socrates, that 
at the beginning of the Peloponnesian "War, the principle of 
subjectivity — of the absolute inherent independence of 
Thought— attained free expression. He taught that man 
has to discover and recognize in himself what is the E-ight 
and Good, and that this Eight and Grood is in its nature 
universal. Socrates is celebrated as a Teacher of Morality,- 
but we should rather call him the Inventor of Morality. The 
Greeks had a customary morality ; but Socrates undertook 
to teach them what moral virtues, duties, &c. were. The 
moral man is not he who merely wills and does that which 
is right — not the merely innocent man — but he who has 
the consciousness of what he is doing. 

Socrates — in assigning to insight, to conviction, the deter- 
mination of men's actions — posited the Individual as capable 
of a final moral decision, in contraposition to Country and 
to Customary Morality, and thus made himself an Oracle, 
in the Greek sense. He said that he had a laifxoviov within 
him, which counselled him what to do, and revealed to him 
what was advantageous to his friends. The rise of the 
inner world of Subjectivity was the rupture with the existing 
Eeality. Though Socrates himself continued to perform his 
duties as a citizen, it was not the actual State and its re- 
ligion, but the world of Thought that was his true home. 
Now the question of the existence and nature of the gods 
came to be discussed. The disciple of Socrates, Plato, ban- 
ished from his ideal state, Homer and Hesiod, the originators 
of that mode of conceiving of religious objects which pre- 
vailed among the Greeks ; for he desiderated a higher con- 
ception of what was to be reverenced as divine — one more 
in harmony with Thought. Many citizens now seceded from 
practical and political life, to live in the ideal world. The 
principle of Socrates manifests a revolutionary aspect towards 
the Athenian State ; for the peculiarity of this State was, 
that Customary Morality was the form in which its existence 
was moulded, viz. — an inseparable connection of Thought 
with actual life. When Socrates wishes to induce his friends to 
reflection, the discourse has always a negative tone; he 
brings them to the consciousness thafc they do not know 
what the Eight is. But when on account of the givin,?' 



282 PAET II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

utterance to that principle which was advancing to re« 
cognition, Socrates is condemned to death, the sentence 
bears on the one hand the aspect of unimpeachable rectitude 
— inasmuch as the Athenian people condemns its deadliest 
foe — but on the other hand, that of a deeply tragical cha- 
racter, inasmuch as the Athenians had to make the dis- 
covery, that what they reprobated in Socrates had already 
struck firm root among themselves, and that they must be 
pronounced guilty or innocent with him. With this feeling 
they condemned the accusers of Socrates, and declared him 
guiltless. In Athens that higher principle which proved the 
ruin of the Athenian state, advanced in its development 
without intermission. Spirit had acquired the propensity to 
gain satisfaction for itself —to reflect. Even in decay the 
Spirit of Athens appears majestic, because it manifests itself 
as the free, the liberal — exhibiting its successive phases in 
their pure idiosyncrasy — in that form in which they really 
exist. Amiable and cheerful even in the midst of tragedy 
is the light-heartedness and nonchalance with which the Athe- 
nians accompany their [national] morality to its grave. We 
recognize the higher interest of the new culture in the fact 
that the people made themselves merry over their own 
follies, and found great entertainment in the comedies of 
Aristophanes, which have the severest satire for their con- 
tents, while they bear the stamp of the most unbridled 
mirth. 

In Sparta the same corruption is introduced, since the 
social unit seeks to assert his individuality against the 
moral life of the community : but there we have merely the 
isolated side of particular subjectivity — corruption in its un- 
disguised form, blank immorality, vulgar selfishness and 
venality. All these passions manifest themselves in Sparta, 
especially in the persons of its generals, who, for the 
most part living at a distance from their country, obtain an 
opportunity of securing advantages at the expense of their 
own state as well as of those to whose assistance they are 
sent. 



SECT. II. THE MACEDONIAN EMPIRE. 283 



THE MACEDONIAN EMPIRE. 

Aeteb the fall of Athens, Sparta took upon herself the 
Hegemony ; but misused it-*- as already mentioned — so 
selfishly, that she was universally hated. Thebes could not 
long sustain the part of humiliating Sparta, and was at last 
exhausted in the war with the Phocians. The Spartans and 
the Phocians — the former because they had surprised the 
citadel of Thebes, the latter because they had tilled a piece 
of land belonging to the Delphian Apollo — had been sen- 
tenced to pay considerable sums of money. Eoth states 
however refused payment; for the Amphictyonic Council 
had not much more authority than the old Grerman Diet, 
which the Grerman princes obeyed only so far as suited their 
inclination. The Phocians were then to be punished by the 
Thebans; but by an egregious piece of violence— by dese- 
crating and plundering the temple at Delphi — the former 
attained momentary superiority. This deed completes the 
ruin of Greece ; the sanctuary was desecrated, the god so to 
speak, killed ; the last support of unity was thereby anni- 
hilated ; reverence for that which in Grreece had been as it 
were always the final arbiter —its monarchical principle — was 
displaced, insulted, and trodden under foot. 

The next step in advance is then that quite simple one, that 
the place of the dethroned oracle should be taken by another 
deciding will— a real authoritative royalty. The foreign Ma- 
cedonian King — Philip — undertook to avenge the violation 
of the oracle, and forthwith took its place, by making him- 
self lord of Greece. Philip reduced under his dominion the 
Hellenic States, and convinced them that it was all over 
with their independence, and that they could no longer 
maintain their own footing. The charge of libtleness, harsh- 
ness, violence, and political treachery — all those hateful 
characteristics with which Philip has so often been re- 
proached — did not extend to the young Alexander, when he 
placed himself at the head of the Greeks. He had no need 
to incur such reproaches ; he had not to form a military 
force, for he found one already in existence. As he had 
only to mount Bucephalus, and take the rein in hand, 
to make him obsequious to his will, just so he found that 
Macedonian phalanx prepared for his purpose — that rigid 



284 PART II. THE GREEK WORLD. 

well-trained iron mass, the power of which had been 
demonstrated under Philip, who copied it from Epami- 
nondas. 

Alexander had been educated by the deepest and also the 
most comprehensive thinker of antiquity — Aristotle; and the 
education was worthy of the man who had undertaken it. 
Alexander was initiated into the profoundest metaphysics : 
therefore his nature was thoroughly refined and liberated from 
the customary bonds of mere opinion, crudities andidle fancies. 
Aristotle left this grand nature as untrammelled as it was 
before his instructions commenced ; but impressed upon it a 
deep perception of what the True is, and formed the spirit 
which nature had so richly endowed, to a plastic being, rolling 
freely like an orb through its circumambient aether. 

Thus accomplished, Alexander placed himself at the head 
of the Hellenes, in order to lead Greece over into Asia. A 
youth of twenty, he commanded a thoroughly experienced 
army, whose generals were all veterans, well versed in the 
art of war. It was ^Alexander's aim to avenge Greece for all 
that Asia had inflicted upon it for so many years, and to 
fight out at last the ancient feud and contest between the 
East and the "West. While in this struggle he retaliated 
upon the Oriental world what Greece had suffered from it, 
he also made a return for the rudiments of culture which 
had been derived thence, by spreading the maturity and 
culmination of that culture over the East ; and, as it were, 
changed the stamp of subjugated Asia and assimilated it 
to an Hellenic land. The grandeur and the interest of this 
work were proportioned to his genius, — to his pecidiar 
youthful individuality, — the like of which in so beautiful a 
form we have not seen a second time at the head of such an 
undertaking. Eor not only were the genius of a commander, 
the greatest spirit, and consummate bravery united in him, 
but all these qualities were dignified by the beauty of his 
character as a man and an individual. Though his generals 
are devoted to him, they had been the long tried servants of 
his father ; and this made his position difficult : for his great- 
ness and youth is a humiliation to them, as inclined to re- 
gard themselves and the achievements of the past, as a com- 
plete work ; so that while their envy, as in Clitus's case, arose 
to blind rage, Alexander also was excited to great violence. 



SBCT. II. THE MACEDONIAN EMPIRE. 285 

Alexander's expedition to Asia was at tlie same time a 
journey of discovery ; for it was he who first opened the 
Oriental "World to the Europeans, and penetrated into 
countries — as e. g. Bactria, Sogdiana, northern India — which 
have since been hardly visited by Europeans. The arrange- 
ment of the march, and not less the military genius dis- 
played in the disposition of battles, and in tactics generally, 
will always remain an object of admiration. He was great 
as a commander in battles, wise in conducting marches and 
marshaUing troops, and the bravest soldier in the thick of the 
fight. Even the death of Alexander, which occurred at 
Babylon in the three and thirtieth year of his age, gives us a 
beautiful spectacle of his greatness, and shews in what rela- 
tion he stood to his army : for he takes leave of it with the 
perfect consciousness of his dignity, 

Alexander had the good fortune to die at the proper time ; 
i. e. it may be called good fortune, but it is rather a neces- 
sity. That he may stand before the eyes of posterity as a 
youth, an early death must hurry him away. Achilles, as 
remarked above, legins the Greek World, and his antitype 
Alexander concludes it : and these youths not only supply a 
picture of the fairest kind in their own persons, but at the 
same time afibrd a complete aad perfect type of Hellenic 
existence. Alexander finished his work and completed his 
ideal ; and thus bequeathed to the world one of the noblest 
and most brilliant of visions, which our poor reflections only 
serve to obscure. Eor the great World- Historical form of 
Alexander, the modern standard applied by recent historical 
" Philistines" — that of virtue or morality — will by no means 
suffice. And if it be alleged in depreciation of his merit, 
that he had no successor, and left behind no dynasty, we 
may remark that the Grreek kingdoms that arose in Asia 
after him, are his dynasty. For two years he was engaged 
in a campaign in Bactria, which brought him into contact with 
the Massagetse and Scythians ; and there arose the Grrseco- 
Bactrian kingdom which lasted for two centuries. Thence the 
Greeks came into connection with India, and even with 
China. The Greek dominion spread itself over northern 
India, and Sandrokottus (Chandraguptas) is mentioned as 
the first who emancipated himself from it. The same name 
presents itself indeed among the Hindoos, but for reasons 
already stated, wa can place very little dependence upon 



286 PAET TI. THE GREEK WOELD. 

Buch mention. Other Greek Kingdoms arose in Asia 
Minor, in Armenia, in Syria and Babylonia. But Egypt es- 
pecially, among the kingdoms of the successors of Alexander, 
became a great centre of science and art ; for a great num- 
ber of its architectural works belong to the time of the 
Ptolemies, as has been made out from the deciphered in- 
scriptions. Alexandria became the chief centre of com- 
merce—the point of union for Eastern manners and tradi- 
tion with Western civilization. Besides these, the Mace- 
donian Kingdom, that of Thrace, stretching beyond the 
Danube, that of Illyria, and that of Epirus, flourished under 
the sway of Greek princes. 

Alexander was also extraordinarily attached to the sciences, 
and he is celebrated as next to Pericles the most liberal patron 
of the arts. Meier says in his History of Art, that his in- 
telligent love of art would have secured him an immortality 
of fame not less than his conquests. 



SECTION III. 

THE FALL OF THE GREEK SPIRIT. 

This third period in the history of the Hellenic World, 
which embraces the protracted development of the evil destiny 
of Greece, interests us less. Those who had been Alexan- 
der's Generals, now assuming an independent appearance 
on the stage of history as Kings, carried on long wars with 
each other, and experienced, almost all of them, the most 
romantic revolutions of fortune. Especially remarkable and 
prominent in this respect is the life of Demetrius Poli- 
orcetes. 

In Greece the States had preserved their existence: 
brought to a consciousness of their weakness by Philip and 
Alexander, they contrived to enjoy an apparent vitality, and 
boasted of an unreal independence. That self-consciousness 
which independence confers, they could not have ; and diplo- 
matic statesmen took the lead in the several States — orators 
who were not at the same time generals, as was the case 
formerly — e.g. in the person of Pericles. The countries of 
Greece now assume various relations to the different mo- 



SECT. III. THE EALL OF THE GREEK SPIRIT. 287 

narchs, who continued to contend for the sovereignty of 
the G-reek States— partly also for their favour, especially for 
that of Athens : for Athens still presented an imposing figure, 
— if not as a Power, yet certainly as the centre of the higher 
arts and sciences, especially of Philosophy and Ehetoric. 
Besides it kept itself more free from the gross excess, 
coarseness and passions which prevailed in the other States, 
and made them contemptible ; and the Syrian and Egyptian 
kings deemed it an honour to make Athens large presents 
of corn and other useful supplies. To some extent too 
the kings of the period reckoned it their greatest glory to 
render and to keep the Greek cities and states independent. 
The Mmancijpation of Greece had as it were, become the 
general watch-word ; and it passed for a high title of fame to 
be called the Deliverer of Greece. If we examine the hid- 
den political bearing of this word, we shall find that it de- 
notes the prevention of any indigenous Grreek State from 
obtaining decided superiority, and keeping aU in a state of 
weakness by separation and disorganization. 

The special peculiarity by which each G-reek State was 
distinguished from the others, consisted in a difference simi- 
lar to that of their glorious divinities, each one of whom has 
his particular character and peculiar being, yet so that this 
peculiarity does not derogate from the divinity common to all. 
When therefore, this divinity has become weak and has van- 
ished from the States, nothing but the bare particularity re- 
mains, — the repulsive speciality which obstinately and way- 
wardly asserts itself, and which on that very account assumes 
a position of absolute dependence and of conflict with others. 
Tet the feeling of weakness and misery led to combinations 
here and there. The JEtolians and their allies as a predatory 
people, set up injustice, violence, fraud, and insolence 
to others, as their charter of rights. Sparta was go- 
verned by infamous tyrants and odious passions, and in this 
condition was dependent on the Macedonian Kings. ^ The 
Boeotian subjective character had, after the extinction ot 
Theban glory, sunk down into indolence and the vulgar de- 
sire of coarse sensual enjoyment. The AcTicean league dis- 
tinguished itself by the aim of its union (the expulsion of 
Tyrants,) by rectitude and the sentiment of communitjr. 
But this too was obliged to take refuge in the most compli- 



288 PAET II. THE GEEEK WOULD. 

cated policy. "What we see here on the whole, is a diploma* 
tic condition — an infinite involvement with the most manifold 
foreign interests — a subtle intertexture and play of parties, 
whose threads are continually being combined anew. 

In the internal condition of the states, which, enervated 
by selfishness and debauchery, were broken up into factions 
— each of which on the other hand directs its attention to fo- 
reign lands, and with treachery to its native country begs for 
the favour of the Kings — the point of interest is no longer the 
fate of these states, but the great individuals, who arise amid 
the general corruption, and honourably devote themselves to 
their country. They appear as great tragic characters, who 
with their genius, and the most intense exertion, are yet un- 
able to extirpate the evils in question ; and perish in the strug- 
gle, without having had the satisfaction of restoring to their 
fatherland, repose, order and freedom, nay, even without 
having secured a reputation with posterity free from all stain. 
Livy says in his prefatory remarks : " In our times we can 
neither endure our faults nor the means of correcting them." 
And this is quite as applicable to these Last of the Grreeks, 
who began an undertaking which was as honourable and no- 
ble, as it was sure of being frustrated. Agis and Cleomenes, 
Aratus and Philopcemen, thus sunk under the struggle for 
the good of their nation. Plutarch sketches for us a highly 
characteristic picture of these times, in giving us a repre- 
sentation of the importance of individuals during their con- 
tinuance. 

The third period of the history of the Greeks brings 
us to their contact with that people which was to play the 
next part on the theatre of the World's History ; and the 
chief excuse for this contact was — as pretexts had pre- 
viously been — the liberation of G-reece. After Perseus the last 
Macedonian King, in the year 168 B.C. had been conquered by 
the Eomans and brought in triumph to Eome, the Achaean 
league was attacked and broken up, and at last in the year 
146 B.C. Corinth was destroyed. Looking at Greece as 
Polybius describes it, we see how a noble nature such as bis, 
has nothing left for it but to despair at the state of affairs and 
to retreat into Philosophy; or if it attempts to act, can only die 
in the struggle. In deadly contraposition to the multiform 
variety of passion which Greece presents — that distracted 



PART III. THE EOMAlf WORLD. 289 

condition which whelms good and evil in one common 
ruin — stands a blind fate, — an iron power ready to shew up 
that degraded condition in all its weakness, and to dash it to 
pieces in miserable ruin; for cure, amendment, and consolation 
are impossible. And this crushing Destiny is the Roman 
power. 

PAET III. 

THE ROMAN WORLD. 

Napoleoist, in a conversation which he once had with Goethe 
on the nature of Tragedy, expressed the opinion that its mo- 
dern phase diifered from the ancient, through our no longer 
recognizing a Destiny to which men are absolutely subject, and 
that Policy occupies the place of the ancient Eate. \_La poli- 
tique est la fatalite']. This therefore he thought must be 
used as the modern form of Destiny in Tragedy- — the irresis- 
tible power of circumstances to which individuality must 
bend. Such a power is the Boman Worlds chosen for the very 
purpose of casting tlie moral units into bonds, as also of col- 
lecting all Deities and all Spirits into the Pantheon of Uni- 
versal dominion, in order to make out of them an abstract uni- 
versality of power. The distinction between the Eoman and 
the Persian principle is exactly this, — that the former stifles 
all vitality, while the latter allowed of its existence in the 
fullest meas\ire. Through its being the aim of the State, that 
the social units in their moral life should be sacrificed to it, 
the world is sunk in melancholy : its heart is broken, and it 
is all over with the Natural side of Spirit, which has sunk into 
a feeling of unhappiness. Tet only from this feeling could 
arise the supersensuous, the free Spirit in Christianity. 

In the Greek principle we have seen spiritual existence in 
its exhilaration — its cheerfulness and enjoyment : Spirit had 
not yet drawn back into abstraction ; it was still involved with 
the Natural element — the idiosyncrasy of individuals ; — on 
which account the virtues of individuals themselves became 
moral works of art. Abstract universal Personality had not 
yet appeared, for Spirit must first develop itself to that form 
of abstract Universality which exercised the severe discipline 

U 



290 PAET III. THE EOMA^f WORLD 

over humanity now under consideration. Here, in Eome then, 
we find that free universality, that abstract Freedom, which 
on the one hand sets an abstract state, a political consti- 
tution and power, over concrete individuality ; on the other 
side creates a personality in opposition to that universality, 
— the inherent freedom of the abstract Ego, which must be 
distinguished from individual idiosyucrasy. For Personality 
constitutes the fundamental condition of legal Eight : it ap- 
pears chiefly in the category of Property, but it is indifferent 
to the concrete characteristics of the living Spirit with which 
individuality is concerned. These two elements, which con- 
stitute Eome, — political Universality on the one hand, and 
the abstract freedom of the individual on the other, — appear, 
in the first instance, in the form of Subjectivity. This Sub- 
jectivity — this retreating into one's self which we observed as 
the corruption of the Grreek Spirit — becomes here the ground 
on which a new side of the World's Ilistory arises. In con- 
sidering the Eoman World, we have not to do with a con- 
cretely spiritual life, rich in itself; but the world-historical 
element in it is the dbstractum of Universality, and the ob- 
ject which is pursued with soulless and heartless severity, is 
mere dominion, in order to enforce that ahstractum. 

In Greece, Democracy was the fundamental condition of 
political life, as in tlie East, Despotism ; here we have Aristo- 
cracy of a rigid order, in a state of opposition to the people. 
In Grreece also the Democracy was rent asunder, but only in 
the way of factions; in Eome it is principles that keep the 
entire community in a divided state, — they occupy a hostile 
position towards, and struggle with each other : first the 
Aristocracy with the Kings, then the Plebs with the Aristo- 
cracy, till Democracy gets the upper hand ; then first 
arise factions in which originated that later aristocracy of 
commanding individuals which subjugated the world. It is 
this dualism that, properly speaking, marks Eome's inmost 
being. 

Erudition has regarded the Eoman Hi-;tory from various 
points of view, and has adopted very difierent and opposing 
opinions : this is especially the case with the more ancient 
part of the history, which has been taken up by three differ- 
ent classes of literati, — Historians, Philologists, and Jurists. 
The Historians hold to the grand features, and shew respect 



PAET III. THE KOMAN WORLD. 291 

for the history as such ; so that we may after all see our way 
best under their guidance, since they allow the validity of 
the records in the case of leading events. It is otherwise 
with the Philologists, by whom generally received traditions 
are less regarded, and who devote more attention to small 
details which can be combined in various ways. These 
combinations gain a footing Jfirst as historical hypotheses, 
but soon after as established facts. To the same degree as 
the Philologists in their department, have the Jurists in that 
of B/Oman law, instituted the minutest examination and in- 
volved their inferences with hypothesis. The result is that 
the most ancient part of Eoman History has been declared 
to be nothing but fable ; so that this department of inquiry is 
brought entirely within the province of learned criticism, 
which always finds the most to do where the least is to be 
got for the labour. While on the one side the poetry and 
the myths of the Grreeks are said to contain profound his- 
torical truths, and are thus transmuted into history, the 
B-omans on the contrary have myths and poetical views 
affiliated upon them; and epopees are affirmed to be at the 
basis of what has been hitherto taken forprosaicand historical. 
With these preliminary remarks we proceed to describe 
the Locality. 

The Eoman World has its centre in Italy ; which is ex- 
tremely similar to Grreece, and, like it, forms a peninsula, only 
not so deeply indented. Within this country, the city of 
Eome itself formed the centre of the centre. Napoleon in 
his Memoirs takes up the question, which city — if Italy were 
independent and formed a totality — would be best adapted 
for its capital. Eome, Venice, and Milan may put forward 
claims to the honour; but it is immediately evident that 
none of these cities would supply a centre. Northern Italy 
constitutes a basin of the river Po, and is quite distinct 
from the body of the peninsula ; Venice is connected only 
with Higher Italy, not with the south ; Eome, on the other 
hand, would, perhaps, be naturally a centre for Middle and 
Lower Italy, but only artificially and violently for those 
lands which were subjected to it in Higher Italy. The Eoman 
State rests geographically, as well as historically, on the 
element of force. 

The locality of Italy, then, presents no natural unity — p.s 
the valley of the Nile ; the unity was similar to* that 

02 



292 PAET 111. THE EOMAN >VOBLD. 

which Macedonia by its sovereignty gave to Greece ; though 
Itaty wanted that permeation by one spirit, which Greece 
possessed through equality of culture ; for it was inhabited 
t3y very various races. Niebuhr has prefaced his Eoman 
history by a profoundly erudite treatise on the peoples of 
Italy ; but from which no connection between them and the 
[Roman History is visible. In fact, Niebuhr's History can 
only be regarded as a criticism of Eoman History, for it 
consists of a series of treatises which by no means possess 
the unity of history. 

We observed subjective inwardness as the general prin- 
ciple of the Roman World. The course of Eoman History, 
therefore, involves the expansion of undeveloped subjectivity 
— inward conviction of existence — to the visibility of the 
real world. The principle of subjective inwardness receives 
positive application in the first place only from without 
— through the particular volition of the sovereignty, the 
government, &c. The development consists in the purifica- 
tion of inwardness to abstract personality, which gives itself 
reality in the existence of private property ; the mutually 
repellent social units can then be held together only by des- 
potic power. The general course of the Eoman World 
may be defined as this; the transition from the inner sanctum 
of subjectivity to its direct opposite. The development is here 
not of the same kind as that in Greece, — the unfolding and 
expanding of its own substance on the part of the principle ; 
but it is the transition to its opposite, which latter does not 
appear as an element of corruption, but is demanded and 
posited by the principle itself. — As to the particular sections 
of the Eoman History, the common division is that into the 
Monarchy, the Eepublic, and the Empire, — as if in these forms 
difterent principles made their appearance ; but the same 
principle — that of the Eoman Spirit — underlies their develop- 
ment. In our division, we must rather keep in view the 
course of History generally. The annals of every World- 
historical people were divided above into three periods, and 
this statement must prove itself true in this case also. The 
■first jyeriod comprehends the rudiments of Eome, in which 
the elements which are essentially opposed, still repose in 
calm unity ; until the contrarieties have acquired strength, 
and the unity of the State becomes a powerful one, through 
that antithetical condition having been nroduced and main- 



SECT. I. HISTORT TO THE SECOlfD PUNIC WaE. 293 

tained within it. In this vigorous condition the State directs 
its forces outwards — i. e., in the second period -Midi makes 
its dehut on the theatre of general history ; this is the noblest 
period of E-ome— the Punic Wars and the contact with the 
antecedent World-Historical people. A wider stage is 
opened, towards the East ; the history at the epoch of this 
contact has been treated by the noble Polybius. The Eo- 
man Empire now acquired that world- conquering extension 
which paved the way for its fall. Internal distraction super- 
vened, while the antithesis was developing itself to self-con- 
tradiction and utter incompatibility ; it closes with Despo- 
tism, which marks the third period. The B,oman power 
appears here in its pomp and splendour ; but it is at the 
same time profoundly ruptured within itself, and the Christian 
Eeligion, which begins with the imperial dominion, receives 
a great extension. The third period comprises the contact 
of E-ome with the North and the Grerman peoples, whose 
turn is now come to play their part in History. 



SECTION I. 

ROME TO THE TIME OF THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 



CHAPTEE I. 

THE ELEMENTS OF THE ROMAN SPIRIT. 

Befoee we come to the Eoman History, we have to con- 
sider the Elements of the Boman Spirit in general,- and men- 
tion and investigate the origin of Eome with a reference to 
them. Eome arose outside recognized countries, viz., in an 
angle where three different districts met, — those of the La- 
tins, Sabines and Etruscans ; it was not formed from some 
ancient stem, connected by natural patriarchal bonds, whose 
origin might be traced up to remote times (as seems to have 
been the case with the Persians, who, however, even then 
ruled a large empire) ; but Eome was from the very begin- 
ning, of artificial and violent, not spontaneous growth. It 
is related that the descendants of the Trojans, led by iEneaa 



294 PART III. THE EOMAN WORLD. 

to Italy, founded Eome ; for the connection with Asia 
was a much cherished tradition, and there are in Italy, 
France, and Germany itself (Xanten) many towns which 
refer their origin, or their names, to the fugitive Trojans. 
Livy speaks of the ancient tribes of Eome, the Eamnenses, 
Titienses, and Luceres. Now if we look upon these as 
distinct nations, and assert that they were really the elements 
from which Eome was formed, — a view which in recent times 
has very often striven to obtain currency, — we directly sub- 
vert the historical tradition. All historians agree that at an 
early period, shepherds, under the leadership of chieftains, 
roved about on the hills of Eome ; that the first Eoman com- 
munity constituted itself as a predatory state ; and that it 
was with difficulty that the scattered inhabitants of the vici- 
nity were thus united. The details of these circumstances are 
also given. Those predatory shepherds received every contri- 
bution to their community that chose to join them (Livy calls 
it a colluvies). The rabble of all the three districts between 
which Eome lay, was collected in the new city. The histo- 
rians state that this point was very well chosen on a hill 
close to the river, and particularly adapted to make it an asy- 
lum for all delinquents. It is equally historical that in the 
newly formed state there were no women, and that the 
neighbouring states would enter into no connubia with it : 
both circumstances characterize it as a predatory union, with 
which the other states wished to have no connexion. They 
also refused the invitation to their religious festivals; and only 
the Sabines, — a simple agricultural people, among whom, as 
Livy says, prevailed a tristis atqiie tetrica superstitio, — partly 
from superstition, partly from fear, presented themselves at 
them. The seizure of the Sabine women is also a universally 
received historical fact. This circumstance itself involves 
a very characteristic feature, viz., that Eeligion is used as a 
means for furthering the purposes of the infant State. An- 
other method of extension was the conveying to Eome of 
the inhabitants of neighbouring and conquered towns. At 
a later date there was also a voluntary migration of foreigners 
to Eome ; as in the case of the so celebrated family of the 
Claudii, bringing their whole clientela. The Corinthian Dema- 
ratus, belonging to a family of consideration, had settled in 
Etruria ; but as being an exile and a foreigner, he was little 



SECT. I. niSTOEY TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 295 

respected there, and his son, Lucumo, could no longer endure 
this degradation. He betook himself to !Rome, says Livy, 
because a new people and a rejpentina ntque exvirtiitenobilt- 
tas were to be found there. Lucumo attained, we are told 
such a degree of respect, that he afterwards became king. 

It is this peculiarity in> the founding of the State which 
must be regarded as the essential basis of the idiosyncrasy 
of E-ome. For it directly involves the severest discipline, 
and self-sacrifice to the grand object of the union. A State 
which had first to form itself, and which is based on force, 
must be held together by force. It is not a moral, liberal 
connection, but a compulsory condition of subordination, 
that results from such an origin. The Eoman virtus is valour ; 
not, however, the merely personal, but that which is essen- 
tially connected with a union of associates ; which union 
is regarded as the supreme interest, and may be combined 
with lawless violence of all kinds. While the E-omans formed 
a union of this kind, they were not, indeed, like the Lace- 
dsBmonians, engaged in an internal contest with a conquered 
and subjugated people ; but there arose a distinction and a 
struggle between Patricians and JBlebeians. This distinction 
was mythically adumbrated in the hostile brothers, E-omu- 
lus and Eemus. Remus was buried on the Aventine mount ; 
this is consecrated to the evil genii, and to it are directed 
the Secessions of the Piebs. The question comes, then, how 
this distinction originated ? It has been already said, that 
Eome was formed bj" robber-herdsmen, and the concourse of 
rabble of all sorts. At a later date, the inhabitants of cap- 
tured and destroyed towns were also conveyed thither. The 
weaker, the poorer, the later additions of population are 
naturally underrated by, and in a condition of dependence 
upon those who originally founded the state, and those 
who were distinguished by valour, and also by wealth. It 
is not necessary, therefore, to take refuge in a hypothesis 
which has recently been a favourite one — that the Patricians 
formed a particular race. 

The dependence of the Plebeians on the Patricians is often 
represented as a perfectly legal relation, — indeed, even a 
sacred one ; since the patricians had the sacra in their hands, 
while the plebs would have been godless, as it were, without 
them. The plebeians left to the patricians their hypocritical 



296 PART TIT. THE ROMAN WOULD. 

stuff {ad decipiendam plebem, Cic.) and cared nothing for 
their sacra and auguries ; but in disjoining political rights 
from these ritual observances, and making good their claim 
to those rights, they were no more guilty of a presumptuous 
sacrilege than the Protestants, when they emancipated the 
political power of the State, and asserted the freedom of con- 
science. The light in which, as previously stated, we must 
regard the relation of the Patricians and Plebeians is, that 
those who were poor, and consequently helpless, were com- 
pelled to attach themselves to the richer and more respectable, 
and to seek for their patrocinium: in this relation of protection 
on the part of the more wealthy, the protected are caUed 
clientes. But we find very soon a fresh distinction between 
the plebs and the clientes. In the contentions between the 
patricians and the plebeians, the clientes held to their patroni, 
though belongiug to the plebs as decidedly as any class. 
That this relation of the clientes had not the stamp of right 
and law is evident from the fact, that with the introduction 
and knowledge of the laws among all classes, the cliental 
relation gradually vanished ; for as soon as individuals found 
protection in the law, the temporary necessity for it could 
not but cease. 

In the first predatory period of the state, every citizen 
was necessarily a soldier, for the state was based on war ; this 
burden was oppressive, since every citizen was obliged to main- 
tain himself in the field. This circumstance, therefore, gave 
rise to the contracting of enormous debts, — the patricians 
becoming the creditors of the plebeians. With the intro- 
duction of laws, this arbitrary relation necessarily ceased; but 
only gradually, for the patricians were far from being imme- 
diately inclined to release the plebs from the cliental relation ; 
they rather strove to render it permanent. The laws of the 
Twelve Tables still contained much that was undefined ; very 
much was still left to the arbitrary will of the judge — the 
patricians alone being judges ; the antithesis, therefore, be- 
tween patricians and plebeians, continues till a much later 
period. Only by degrees do the plebeians scale all the 
heights of ofiicial station, and attain those privileges which 
formerly belonged to the patricians alone. 

In the life of the Greeks, although it did not any more 
than that of the Eomans originate in the patriarchal rela- 



SECT. I. HISTOEY TO THE SECONG PITNIC WAE. 297 

tion, Family love and the Family tie appeared at its very 
commencement, and the peaceful aim of their social existence 
had for its necessary condition the extirpation of freebooters 
both by sea and land. The founders of E-ome, on the con- 
trary — Eomulus and Eemus — are, according to the tradition, 
themselves freebooters — represented as from their earliest 
days thrust out from the Pamily, and as having grown up in 
a state of isolation from family affection. In like manner, 
the first Eomans are said to have got their wives, not by free 
courtship and reciprocated inclination, but by force. This 
commencement of the Eoman life in savage rudeness exclud- 
ing the sensibilities of natural morality, brings with it one 
characteristic element — harshness in respect to the family 
relation ; a selfish harshness, which constituted the funda- 
mental condition of Eoman manners and laws, as we observe 
them in the sequel. We thus find family relations among 
the Eomans not as a beautiful, free relation of love and feel- 
ing ; the place of confidence is usurped by the principle of 
severity, dependence, and subordination. Marriage, in its 
strict and formal shape, bore quite the aspect of a mere con- 
tract ; the wife was part of the husband's property {in ma- 
num conventi6)y and the marriage ceremony was based on a 
coemtio, in a form such as might have been adopted on the oc- 
casion of any other purchase. The husband acquired a power 
over his wife, such as he had over his daughter ; nor less over 
her property ; so that everything which she gained, she gained 
for her husband. During the good times of the republic, 
the celebration of marriages included a religious ceremony, 
— " confarreatio " — but which was omitted at a later period. 
The husband obtained not less power than by the coemtio, 
when he married according to the form called "usus,"— that 
is, when the wife remained in the house of her husband with- 
out having been absent a "trinoctium" in a year. If the 
husband had not married in one of the forms of the " in ma- 
num conventio," the wife remained either in the power ot 
her father, or under the guardianship of her " agnates," and 
was free as regarded her husband. The Eoman matron, 
therefore, obtained honour and dignity only through inde- 
pendence of her husband, instead of acquiring her honour 
through her husband and by marriage. If a husband 
who had married under the freer condition — that is, wheu 



298 PART III. THE ROMAN WORLD. 

the union was not consecrated by the " confarreatio, — wished 
to separate from his wife, he dismissed her without further 
ceremony. The relation of sons was perfectly similar : they 
were, on the one hand, about as dependent on the paternal 
power as the wife on the matrimonial ; they could not pos- 
sess property, — it made no difference whether they filled a 
high office in the State or not (though the "peculia cas- 
trensia," and ''adventitia'^ were differently regarded) ; but 
on the other hand, when they were emancipated, they had no 
connection with their father and their family. An evi- 
dence of the degree in which the position of children was 
regarded as analogous to that of slaves, is presented in the 
^^ imaginaria servitus (mancipimTi),'' through which emanci- 
pated children had to pass. In reference to inheritance, 
morality would seem to demand that children should share 
equally. Among the Eomans, on the contrary, testamentary 
caprice manifests itself in its harshest form. 

Thus perverted and demoralized, do we here see the fun- 
damental relations of ethics. The immoral active severity of 
the E/omans in, this private side of character, necessarily finds 
its counterpart in the passive severity of their political 
union. For the severity which the Eoman experienced from 
the State he was compensated by a severity, identical in 
nature, which he was allowed to indulge towards his family, 
— a servant on the one side, a despot on the other. This 
constitutes the Eoman greatness, whose peculiar character- 
istic was stern inflexibility in the union of individuals with 
the State, and with its law and mandate. In order to obtain 
a nearer view of this Spirit, we must not merely keep in view 
the actions of Boman heroes, confronting the enemy as soldiers 
or generals, or appearing as ambassadors — since in these 
cases they belong, with their whole mind and thought, only 
to the state and its mandate, without hesitation or yielding 
— but pay particular attention also to the conduct of the 
plebs in times of revolt against the patricians. How often 
in insurrection and in anarchical disorder was the plebs 
brought back into a state of tranquillity by a mere form, and 
cheated of the fulfilmeut of its demands, righteous or un- 
righteous ! How often was a Dictator, e.g., chosen by the 
senate, when there was neither war nor danger from an 
enemy, in order to get the plebeians into the army, and to 



SECT. I. HISTORY TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAE. 299 

bind them to strict obedience by the military oath ! It took 
Licinius ten years to carry laws favourable to the plebs ; 
the latter allowed itself to be kept back by the mere formality 
of the veto on the part of other tribunes, and still moi'e 
patiently did it wait for the long-delayed execution of these 
laws. It may be asked : By what was such a disposition 
and character produced ? Produced it cannot be, but it is 
essentially latent in the origination of the State from that 
primal robber-community, as also in the idiosyncrasy of the 
people who composed it,and lastly, in that phase of the World- 
Spirit which was just ready for development. The elements 
of the Eoman people were Etruscan, Latin and Sabine ; these 
must have contained an inborn natural adaptation to produce 
the E-oman Spirit. Of the spirit, the character, and the life 
of the ancient Italian peoples we know very little — thanks to 
the non-intelligent character of Eoman historiography ! — and 
that little, for the most part, from the Grreek writers on 
Eoman history. But of the general character of the Homans 
we may say that, in contrast with that primeval wild poetry 
and transmutation of the finite, which we observe in the 
East — in contrast with the beautiful, harmonious poetry and 
well-balanced freedom of Spirit among the Greeks — here, 
among the E/omans the prose of life makes its appearauce^ — 
the self-consciousness of finiteness — the abstraction of the 
Understanding and a rigorous principle of personality, which 
even in the Family does not expand itself to natural mora- 
lity, but remains the unfeeling non-spiritual unit, and re- 
cognizes the uniting bond of the several social units only 
in abstract universality. 

This extreme prose of the Spirit we find in Etruscan 
art, which though technically perfect and so far true to 
nature, has nothing of Greek Ideality and Beauty : we also 
observe it in the development of Eoman Law and in the 
Eoman religion. 

To the constrained, non-spiritual, and unfeeling intelli- 
gence of the Eoman world we owe the origin and the de- 
velopment of positive law. Eor we saw above, how in the 
East, relations in their very nature belonging to the sphere 
of outward or inward morality, were made legal mandates ; 
even among the Greeks, morality was at the same time 
juristic right, and on that very account the constitution was 



300 PAET III. THE UOMAN WORLD. 

entirely dependent on morals and disposition, and had not 
yet a fixity of principle within it, to counterbalance the 
mutability of men's inner life and individual subjectivity. 
The Romans then completed this important separation, and 
discovered a principle of right, which is external— i.e., one 
not dependent on disposition and sentiment. "While they 
have thus bestowed upon us a valuable gift, in point oiform, 
we can use and enjoy it without becoming victims to that 
sterile Understanding, — without regarding it as the ne plus 
ultra of "Wisdom and Eeason. They were its victims, 
living beneath its sway ; but they thereby secured for others 
Freedom of Spirit— viz., that inward Freedom which has con- 
sequently become emancipate from the sphere of the Limited 
and the External. Spirit, Soul, Disposition, Eeligion have 
now no longer to fear being involved with that abstract 
juristical Understandiug. Art too has its external side; 
when in Art the mechanical side has been brought to per- 
fection. Free Art can arise and display itself. But those must 
be pitied who knew of nothing but that mechanical side, and 
desired nothing farther ; as also those who, when Art has 
arisen, still regard the Mechanical as the highest. 

We see the Eomans thus bound up in that abstract under- 
standing which pertains to finiteness. This is their highest 
characteristic, consequently also their highest conscious- 
ness, in Beligion. In fact, constraint was the religion of 
the E-omans ; among the Grreeks, on the contrary, it was 
the cheerfulness of free phantasy. "We are accustomed to 
regard Grreek and Roman religion as the same, and use the 
names Jupiter, Minerva, &c. as Eoman deities, often with- 
out distinguishing them from those of Grreeks. This is ad- 
missible inasmuch as the Greek divinities were more or 
less introduced among the Eomans ; but as the Egyptian 
religion is by no means to be regarded as identical with the 
Grreek, merely because Herodotus and the Greeks form to 
themselves an idea of the Egyptian divinities under the 
names " Latona," " Pallas," &c., so neither must the Eoman 
be confounded with the Greek. "We have said that in the 
Greek religion the thrill of awe suggested by ^Nature was 
fully developed to something Spiritual — to a free conception, 
a spiritual form of fancy — that the Greek Spirit did not re- 
main in the condition of inwai'd fear, but proceeded to make 



SECT. I. HISTOET TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAE. 301 

the relation borne to man bj Nature, a relation of freedom 
and cheerfulness. The Eomans, on the contrary, remained 
satisfied with a dull, stupid subjectivity ; consequently, the 
external was only an Object — something alien, something 
hidden. The Eoman spirit which thus remained involved in 
subjectivity, came into a relation of constraint and depen- 
dence, to which the origin of the word " religio " (lig-are) 
points. The Roman had always to do with something secret ; 
in everything he believed in and sought for something con- 
cealed ; and while in the Greek religion everything is open 
and clear, present to sense and contemplation — not pertain- 
ing to a future world, but something friendly, and of this 
world, — among the Eomans everything exhibits itself as 
mysterious, duplicate : they saw in the object first itself, and 
then that which lies concealed in it : their history is pervaded 
by this duplicate mode of viewing phenomena. The city of 
Eome had besides its proper name another secret one, known 
only to a few. It is believed by some to have been " Yalen- 
tia,'" the Latin translation of "Eoma;" others think it 
was "Amor" ("Eoma" read backwards). Eomulus, the 
founder of the State, had also another, a sacred name — 
**Quirinus," — by which title he was worshipped : the Eomans 
too were also called Quirites. (This name is connected with 
the term *' curia : " in tracing its etymology, the name of 
the Sabine town "Cures," has been had recourse to.) 

Among the Eomans the religious thrill of awe remained 
undeveloped ; it was shut up to the mere subjective certainty 
of its own existence. Consciousness has therefore given 
itself no spiritual objectivity — has not elevated itself to 
the theoretical contemplation ol the eternally divine nature, 
and to freedom in that contemplation ; it has gained no reli- 
gious substantiality for itself from Spirit. The bare subjec- 
tivity of conscience is characteristic of the Eoman in all that 
he does and undertakes — in his covenants, political relations, 
obligations, family relations, &c. ; and all these relations 
receive thereby not merely a legal sanction, but as it were 
a solemnity analogous to that of an oath. The infinite 
number of ceremonies at the comitia, on assuming offices, 
&c., are expressions and declarations that concern this firm 
bond. Everywhere the sacra play a very important part. 
Transactions, naturally the most alien to constraint, became 



302 PAKT III. THE ROMAN WOKi^D. 

a sacrum^ and were petrified, as it were, into that. To this 
category belongs, e.y., in strict marriages, the confarreatio, 
and the auguries and auspices generally. The knowledge of 
these sacra is utterly uninteresting and wearisome, affording 
fresh material for learned research as to whether they are of 
Etruscan, Sabine, or other origin. On their account the 
Eoman people have been regarded as extremely pious, both 
in positive and negative observances ; though it is ridiculous 
to hear recent writers speak with unction and respect of 
these sacra. The Patricians were especially fond of them ; 
they have therefore been elevated in the judgment of some, 
to the dignity of sacerdotal families, and regarded as the 
sacred gentes — the possessors and conservators of Eoman 
religion: the plebeians then become the godless element. 
On this head what is pertinent has already been said. 
The ancient kings were at the same time also reges sacrorum. 
After the royal dignity had been done away with, there still 
remained a Bex Sacrorwn ; but he, like all the other 
priests, was subject to the Fontifex 3Iaximus, who presided 
over all the " sacra," and gave them such a rigidity and 
fixity as enabled the patricians to maintain their religious 
power so long. 

But the essential point in pious feeling is the subject 
matter with which it occupies itself — though it is often 
asserted, on the contrary, in modern times, that if pious 
feelings exist, it is a matter of indifference what object 
occupies them. It has been already remarked of the Eomans, 
that their religious subjectivity did not expand into a free 
spiritual and moral comprehensiveness of being. It can be 
said that their piety did not develop itself into religion ; for 
it remained essentially formal, and this formalism took its 
real side from another quarter. From the very definition 
given, it follows that it can only be of a finite, unhallowed 
order, since it arose outside the secret sanctum of religion. 
The chief characteristic of Eoman Eeligion is therefore a hard 
and dry contemplation of certain voluntary aims, which they 
regard as existing absolutely in their divinities, and whose 
accomplishment they desire of them as embodying absolute 
power. These purposes constitute that for the sake of which 
they worship the gods, and by which, in a constrained, limited 
way, they are bound to their deities. The Eoman religion 



SECT. I. HISTORY TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 303 

is therefore the entirely prosaic one of narrow aspirations, ex- 
pediency, profit. The divinities peculiar to them are entirely 
prosaic ; they are conditions [of mind or body], sensations, 
or useful arts, to which their dry fancy, having elevated them 
to independent power, gave objectivity ; they are partly ab- 
stractions, which could only become frigid allegories, — partly 
conditions of being which appear as bringing advantage or 
■injury, and which were presented as objects of worship in 
their original bare and limited form. "We can but briefly 
notice a few examples. The Bomans worshipped " Pax,'' 
" Tranquillitas," "Vacuna" (Eepose), " Angeronia" (Sorrow 
and grief), as divinities; they consecrated altars to the 
Plague, to Hunger, to Mildew (Eobigo), to Pever, and to the 
Dea Cloacina. Juno appears among the Eomans not merely 
as "Lucina," the obstetric goddess, but also as "Juno 
'Ossipagina," the divinity who forms the bones of the child,, 
and as " Juno Unxia," who anoints the hinges of the doors at 
marriages (a matter which was also reckoned among the 
"sacra"). How little have these prosaic conceptions in 
common with the beauty of the spiritual powers and deities 
of the Greeks ! On the other hand, Jupiter as " Jupiter 
Capitolinus" represents the generic essence of the Eoman 
Empire, which is also personified in the divinities " Eoma" 
and " Portuna Publica." 

It was the Eomans especially who introduced the practice 
of not merely supplicating the gods in time of need, and 
celebrating "lectisternia," but of also making solemn promises 
and vows to them. Por help in difiiculty they sent even 
into foreign countries, and imported foreign divinities arnd 
rites. The introduction of the gods and most of the Eomau 
temples thus arose from necessity — from a vow of some kind, 
and an obligatory, not disinterested acknowledgment of 
favours. The Grreeks on the contrary erected and instituted 
their beautiful temples, and statues, and rites, from love to 
beauty and divinity for their own sake. 

Only One side of the Eoman religion exhibits something 
attractive, and that is the festivals, w^hich bear a relation to 
country life, and whose observance was transmitted from the 
earliest times. The idea of the Saturnian time is partly their 
basis — the conception of a state of things antecedent to and 
beyond the limits of civil society and political combination ; 



304 PAET III. THE ROMAN WORLD. 

but their import is partly taken from Nature generally — the 
Sun, the course of the year, the seasons, months, &c., (with 
astronomical intimations) — partly from the particular aspects 
of the course of Nature, as bearing upon pastoral and agri- 
cultural life. There were festivals of sowing and harvesting 
and of the seasons ; the principal was that of the Saturnalia, 
&c. In this aspect there appears much that is naive and inge- 
nious in the tradition. Yet this series of rites, on the 
whole, presents a very limited and prosaic appearance ; 
deeper views of the great powers of nature and their generic 
processes are not deducible from them ; for they are entirely 
directed to external vulgar advantage, and the merriment 
they occasioned, degenerated into a buffoonery unrelieved by 
intellect. While among the Grreeks their tragic art de- 
veloped itself from similar rudiments, it is on the other hand 
remarkable that among the Komans the scurrilous dances 
and songs connected with the rural festivals, were kept up 
till the latest periods without any advance from this naive 
but rude form to anything really artistic. 

It has already been said that the Romans adopted the 
Greeh Gods, (the mythology of the Eoman poets is entirely 
derived from the Grreeks) ; but the worship of these beauti- 
ful gods of the imagination appears to have been among them 
of a very cold and superficial order. Their talk of Jupiter, 
Juno, Minerva, sounds like a mere theatrical mention of 
them. The Grreeks made their Pantheon the embodiment of 
a rich intellectual material, and adorned it with bright fan- 
cies ; it was to them an object calling forth continual inven- 
tion and exciting thoughtful reflection ; and an extensive, nay 
inexhaustible treasure has thus been created for sentiment, 
feeling and thought, in their mythology. The Spirit of the 
Eomans did not indulge and delight itself in that play of 
a thoughtful fancy; the Greek mythology appears lifeless and 
exotic in their hands. Among the E-oman poets— especially 
Virgil — the introduction of the gods is the product of a frigid 
Understanding and of imitation. The gods are used in these 
poems as jnachinery, and in a merely superficial way ; re- 
garded much in the same way as in our didactic treatises on 
the belles lettres, where among other directions we find one 
relating to the use of such machinery in epics— in order 
to produce astonishment. 



SECT. I. HISTORY TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 305 

The Eomans "wei-e as essentially different from tlie Greeks 
in respect to their public games. In these the Eomans were, 
properly speaking, only spectators. The mimetic and the- 
atrical representation, the dancing, foot-racing and wrestling, 
they left to manumitted slaves, gladiators, or criminals con- 
demned to death- Nero's deepest degradation was his 
appearing on a public stage as a singer, lyrist and comba- 
tant. As the Romans were only spectators, these diversions 
were something foreign to them ; they did not enter into 
them with their whole souls. With increasing luxury the 
taste for the baiting of beasts and men became particularly 
keen. Hundreds of bears, lions, tigers, elephants, croco- 
diles, and ostriches, were produced, and slaughtered for mere 
amusement. A body consisting of hundreds, nay thousands 
of gladiators, when entering the amphitheatre at a certain 
festival to engage in a sham sea-fight, addressed the Em- 
peror with the words : " Those who are devoted to death 
salute thee," to excite some compassion. In vain! the 
whole were devoted to mutual slaughter. In place of hu- 
man sufferings in the depths of the soul and spirit, occasioned 
by the contradictions of life, and which find their solution in 
Destiny, the Eomans instituted a cruel reality of corporeal 
sufferings : blood in streams, the rattle in the throat which 
signals death, and the expiring gasp were the scenes that 
delighted them. — This cold negativity of naked murder ex- 
hibits at the same time that murder of all spiritual objective 
aim which had taken place in the soul. I need only mention in 
addition, the auguries, auspices, and Sibylline books, to remind 
you how fettered the Eomans were by superstitions of all 
kinds, and that they pursued exclusively their own aims in 
all the observances in question. The entrails of beasts, 
flashes of lightning, the flight of birds, the Sibylline dicta 
determined the administration and projects of the State. 
All this was in the hands of the patricians, who consciously 
made use of it as a mere outward, [non-spiritual, secular] 
means of constraint to further their own ends and oppress 
the people. 

The distinct elements of Eoman religion are, according to 
what has been said, subjective religiosity and a ritualism 
having for its object purely superficial external aims. Se- 
cular aims are left entirely free, instead of being limited 



306 PAET III. THE EOMAN WOELB. 

by religion— in fact they are rather justified by it. The 
Eomans are invariably pious, whatever may be the sub- 
stantial character of their actions. But as the sacred prin- 
ciple here is nothing but an empty form, it is exactly of such 
a kind that it can be an instrument in the power of the de- 
votee ; it is taken possession of by the individual, who seeks 
his private objects and interests ; whereas the truly Divine 
possesses on the contrary a concrete power in itself. But 
where there is only a powerless form, the individual— the 
Will, possessing an independent concreteness able to make 
that form its own, and render it subservient to its views — 
stands above it. This happened in Rome on the part of the pa- 
tricians. The possession of sovereignty by the patricians is 
thereby made firm, sacred, incommunicable, peculiar: the 
administration of government, and political privileges, receive 
the character of hallowed private property. There does not 
exist therefore a substantial national unity, — not that beauti- 
ful and moral necessity of united life in the Polls ; but every 
" gens" is itself firm, stern, having its own Penates and sa- 
cra ; each has its own political character, which it always 
preserves : strict, aristocratic severity distinguished the 
Claudii ; benevolence towards the people, the Valerii ; noble- 
ness of spirit, the Cornelii. Separation and limitation was 
extended even to marriage, for the conwwiia of patricians with 
plebeians were deemed profane. But in that very subjectivity 
of religion we find also the principle of arbitrariness: and while 
on the one hand we have arbitrary choice invoking religion 
to bolster up private possession, we have on the other hand the 
revolt of arbitrary choice against religion. For the same or- 
der of things can, on the one side, be regarded as privileged 
by its religious form, and on the other side wear the aspect 
of being merely a matter of choice — of arbitrary volition on 
the part of man. When the time was come for it to be 
degraded to the rank of a mere form, it was necessarily 
known and treated as a form, — trodden under foot, — represen- 
ted as formalism. — The inequality which enters into the do- 
main of sacred things forms the transition from religion to 
the "bare reality of political life. The consecrated inequality of 
will and of private property constitutes the fundamental 
condition of the change. The Eoman principle admits of 
aristocracy alone as the constitution proper to it, but which 



SECT I. HISTOBT TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 307 

directly manifests itself only in an antithetical form — inter- 
nal inequality. Only from necessity and the pressure of 
adverse circumstances is this contradiction momentarily 
smoothed over ; for it involves a duplicate power, the stern- 
ness and malevolent isolation of whose components can only 
be mastered and bound together by a still greater sternness, 
into a unity maintained by force 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE HISTORY OF ROME TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 

In the first period, several successive stages display 
their characteristic varieties. The Eoman State here exhibits 
its first phase of growth, under Kings; then it receives a re- 
publican constitution, at whose head stand Consuls. The 
struggle between patricians and plebeians begins ; and after 
this has been set at rest by the concession of the plebeian 
demands, there ensues a state of contentment in the internal 
affairs of Eome,and it acquires strength to combat victoriously 
with the nation that preceded it on the stage of general his- 
tory. As regards the accounts of the first Eoman kings, every 
datum has met with flat contradiction as the result of criti- 
cism ; but it is going too far to deny them all credibility. 
Seven kings in all, are mentioned by tradition ; and even the 
' Higher Criticism' is obliged to recognize the last links in the 
series as perfectly historical. Eomulus is called the founder of 
this union of freebooters ; he organized it into a military state. 
Although the traditions respecting him appear fabulous, they 
only contain what is in accordance with the Eoman Spirit 
as above described. To the second king, Numa, is ascribed 
the introduction of the religious ceremonies. This trait is 
very remarkable from its implying that religion was intro- 
duced later than political union, while among other peoples 
religious traditions make their appearance in the remotest 
periods and before all civil institutions. The king was at 
the same time a priest {rex is referred by etymologists to 
(0£;£i»/— to sacrifice.) As is the case with states generally^ 

s2 



808 PAET III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

the Political was at first united with the Sacerdotal, and a the- 
ocratical state of things prevailed. The King stood here at 
the head of those who enjoyed privileges in virtue of the 
sacra. 

The separation of the distinguished and powerful citizens 
as senators and patricians took place as early as the first 
kings. Romulus is said to have appointed 100 patres, res- 
pecting which however the Higher Criticism is sceptical. In 
religion, arbitrary ceremonies — the sacra — became fixed 
marks of distinction, and peculiarities oi the g antes and ordeis. 
The internal organization of the State was gradually realized. 
Livy says that as Numa established all divine matters, so 
Servius TuUius introduced the different Classes, and the Cen- 
sus, according to which the share of each citizen in the 
administration of public affairs was determined. The patri- 
cians were discontented with this scheme, especially be- 
cause Servius Tullius abolished a part of the debts owed by 
the plebeians, and gave public lands to the poorer citizens, 
whicn made them possessors of landed property. He divided 
the people into six classes, of which the first together with 
the knights formed 98 centuries, the inferior classes 
proportionately fewer. Thus, as they voted by centuries, the 
class first in rank had also the greatest weight in the State. It 
appears that previously the patricians had the power exclu- 
sively in their hands, but that after Servius's division they had 
merely a preponderance ; which explains their divscontent with 
his institutions. "With Servius the history becomes more 
distinct ; and under him and his predecessor, the elder Tar- 
quinius, traces of prosperity are exhibited. Niebuhr is sur- 
prised that according to Dionysius and I/ivy, the most 
ancient constitution was democratic, inasmuch as the vote of 
every citizen had equal weight in the assembly of the people. 
But Livy only says that Servius abolished the suffragivmi 
viriiim. Now in the comitia curiata — the cliental relation, 
which absorbed the plebs, extending to all — the patricians 
alone had a vote, and populus denoted at that time only the 
patricians. Dionysius therefore does not contradict himself, 
when he says that the constitution according to the laws of 
Komulus was strictly aristocratic. 

Almost all the Kings were foreigners, — a circumstance 



SECT. I. HISTORY TO THE SECOND PUKIC WAR. 309 

very characteristic of the origin of E-ome. Numa, who suc- 
ceeded the founder of Eome, was according to the tradition^ 
one of the Sabines— a people which under the reign of Eomu- 
lus, led by Tatius, is said to have settled on one of the Eoman 
hills. At a later date however the Sabine country appears as a 
region entirely separated from the Eoman State. N^uma was 
followed by Tullus Hostilius, and the very name of this king 
points to his foreign origin. Ancus Martius, the fourth king, 
was the grandson of Numa. l^arquinius Priscus sprang 
from a Corinthian family, as we had occasion to observe 
above. Servius Tullius was frora Corniculum, a conquered 
Latin town ; Tarquinius Superhus was descended from the 
elder Tarquinius. Under this last king Eome reached a high 
degree of prosperity : even at so early a period as this, a com- 
mercial treaty is said to have been concluded with the 
Carthaginians ; and to be disposed to reject this as mythical 
would imply forgetfuln ess of the connection which Eome had, 
even at that time, with the Etrurians and other bordering 
peoples whose prosperity depended on trade and maritime 
pursuits. The Eomans were probably even then acquainted 
with the art of writing, and already possessed that clear- 
sighted comprehension which was their remarkable character- 
istic, and which led to that perspicuous historical compositioiL 
for which they are famous. 

In the growth of the inner life of the state, the power of 
the Patricians had been much reduced ; and the kings often 
courtedthe support of the people — as weseewas frequently the 
case in the mediaeval history of Europe — in order to steal a 
march upon the Patricians. We have already observed this 
in Servius Tullius. The last king, "Tarquinius Suj)erbus, 
consulted the senate but little in state affairs ; he also neglected 
to supply the place of its deceased members, and acted in 
every respect as if he aimed at its utter dissolution. Then 
ensued a state of political excitement which only needed an 
occasion to break out into open revolt. An insult to the ho- 
nour of a matron — the invasion of that sanctum sanctorum — 
by the son of the king, supplied such an occasion. The kings 
were banished in the year 244 of the City and 510 of the 
Christian Era (that is, if the building of Eome is to be dated 
753 B.C.) and the royal dignity abolished for ever. 

The Kings were expelled by the patricians, not by the 



3iO PAET III. THE EOMAN WORLD. 

plebeians ; if therefore the patricians are to be regarded as 
possessed of " divine right" as being a sacred race, it is wor- 
thy of note that we find them here contravening such legiti- 
mation ; for the King was their High Priest. We observe on 
this occasion with what dignity the sanctity of marriage was 
invested in the eyes of the Romans. The principle of 
subjectivity and piety (pudor) was with them the religious 
and guarded element ; and its violation becomes the occasion 
of the expulsion of the Kings, and later on of the Decem- 
virs too. We find monogamy therefore also looked upon by 
the Komans as an understood thing. It was not introduced 
by an es;press law ; we have nothing but an incidental testi- 
mony in the Institutes, where it is said that marriages un- 
der certain conditions of relationship are not allowable, 
because a man may not have two wives. It is not until the 
reign of Diocletian that we find a law expressly determining 
that no one belonging to the Eoman empire may have 
two wives, " since according to a praetorian edict also, infamy 
attaches to such a condition" (cum etiam in edicto prsetoris 
hujusmodi viri infamia notati sunt.) Monogamy therefore 
is regarded as naturally valid, and is based on the prin- 
ciple of subjectivity. — Lastly, we must also observe that 
royalty was not abrogated here as in Greece by suicidal 
destruction on the part of the royal races, but was ex- 
terminated in hate. The King, himself the chief priest, had 
been guilty of the grossest profanation ; the principle of sub- 
jectivity revolted against the deed, and the patricians, there- 
by elevated to a sense of independence, threw off* the yoke 
of royalty. Possessed by the same feeling, the plebs at a 
later date rose against the patricians, and the Latins and the 
Allies against the Eomans ; until the equality of the social 
units was restored through the whole Eoman dominion, (a 
multitude of slaves, too, being emancipated) and they were 
held together by simple Despotism. 

Livy remarks that Brutus hit upon the right epoch for the 
expulsion of the kings, for that if it had taken place earlier, 
the state would have suff'ered dissolution. What would have 
happened, he asks, if this homeless crowd had been liberated 
earlier, when living together had not yet produced a mutual 
conciliation of dispositions ? — The constitution now became 
in name republican. If we look at the matter more closelj' 
it is evident (Livy ii. 1.) that no other essential change took 



SECT. I. HISTORY TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 311 

place than the transference of the power which was previously 
permanent in the King, to tioo annual Consuls. These two, 
equal in power, managed military and judicial as well as ad- 
ministrative business ; for prsBtors, as supreme judges, do 
not appear till a later date. 

At first all authority remained in the hands of the consuls ; 
and at the beginning of the republic, externally and internally, 
the state was in evil plight. In the Eoman history a period 
occurs as troubled as that in the G-reek which followed the ex- 
tinction of the dynasties. The E-omans had first to sustain a 
severe conflict with their expelled King, who had sought and 
found help from the Etrurians. In the war against Porsena 
the Eomans lost aU their conquests, and even their indepen- 
dence : they were compelled to lay down their arms and to 
give hostages ; according to an expression of Tacitus (Hist. 
3, 72.) it seems as if Porsena had even taken Eome. Soon 
after the expulsion of the Kings we have the contest between 
the patricians and plebeians ; for the abolition of royalty had 
taken place exclusively to the advantage of the aristocracy, 
to which the royal power was transferred, while the plebs lost 
the protection which the Kings had afibrded it. All magis- 
terial and juridical power, and all property in land was at this 
time in the hands of the patricians ; while the people, con- 
tinually dragged out to war, could not employ themselves in 
peaceful occupations : handicrafts could not flourish, and the 
only acquisition the plebeians could make was their share in 
the booty. The patricians had their territory and soil cul- 
tivated by slaves, and assigned some of their land to their 
clients, who on condition of paying taxes and contributions, 
— as tenant cultivators, therefore — had the usufruct of it. This 
relation, on account of the form in which the dues were paid 
by the Clientes, was very similar to vassalage : they were 
obliged to give contributions towards the marriage of the 
daughters of the Patronus, to ransom him or his sons when 
in captivity, to assist them in obtaining magisterial offices, 
and to make up the losses sustained in suits at law. The 
administration of justice was likewise in the hands of the 
patricians, and that without the limitations of definite and 
written laws ; a desideratum which at a later period the Decem- 
Tirs were created to supply. All the power of government 



312 PAET III. THE EOMAN WORLD. 

belonged moreover to the patricians, for they were in posses- 
sion of aJ offices — first of the consulship, afterwards of the 
military tribuneship and censorship, (instituted a. tj. c. 
311) — by which the actual administration of government as 
likewise the oversight of it, was left to them alone. Lastly, 
it was the patricians who constituted the Senate. The ques- 
tion as to how that body was recruited appears very im- 
portant. But in this matter no systematic plan was followed. 
Eomulus is said to have founded the senate, consisting then 
of one hundred members ; the succeeding kings increased 
this number, and Tarquinius Priscus fixed it at three hun- 
dred. Junius Brutus restored the senate, which had very 
much fallen away, de novo. In after times it would appear 
that the censors and sometimes the dictators filled up the 
vacant places in the senate. In the second Punic War, 
A.U.C. 538, a dictator was chosen, who nominated 177 new 
senators: he selected those who had been invested with 
curule dignities, the plebeian ^diles. Tribunes of the People 
and Qusestors, citizens who had gained spolia opima or the 
corona civica. Under Caesar the number of the senators was 
raised to eight hundred ; Augustus reduced it to six hun- 
dred. It has been regarded as great negligence on the part 
of the Boman historians, that they give us so little informa- 
tion respecting the composition and redintegration of the 
senate. But this point which appears to us to be invested 
with infinite importance, was not of so much moment to the 
E-omans at large ; they did not attach so much weight to formal 
arrangements, for their principal concern was, how the 
government was conducted. How in fact can we suppose 
the constitutional rights of the ancient Eomans to have been 
so well defined, and that at a time which is even regarded as 
mythical, and its traditionary history as epical ? 

The people were in some such oppressed condition as, e.g. 
the Irish were a few years ago in the British Isles, while they 
remained at the same time entirely excluded from the 
government. Often they revolted and made a secession 
from the city. Sometimes they also refused military service ; 
yet it always remains a very striking fact that the senate 
could so long resist superior numbers irritated by oppression 
and practised in war ; for the main struggle lasted for more 



SECT. I. HISTOET TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAE. 313 

than a hundred years. In the fact that the people could so 
long be kept in check is manifested its respect for legal 
order and the sacra. But of necessity the plebeians at last 
secured their righteous demands, and their debts were often 
remitted. The severity of the patricians their creditors, 
the debts due to whom they had to discharge by slave-work, 
drove the plebs to revolts. At first it demanded and re- 
ceived only what it had already enjoyed under thekings — landed 
property and protection against the powerful. It received 
assignments of land, and Tribunes of the People—func- 
tionaries that is to say, who had the power to put a veto on 
every decree of the senate. When this office commenced, the 
number of tribunes was limited to two : later there were ten 
of them ; which however was rather injurious to the plebs, 
since all that the senate had to do was to gain over one of 
the tribunes, in order to thwart the purpose of all the rest 
by his single opposition. The plebs obtained at the same time 
the provocatio ad populum : that is, in every case of magisterial 
oppression, the condemned person might appeal to the deci- 
sion of the people— a privilege of infinite importance to the 
plebs, and which especially irritated the patricians. At the 
repeated desire of the people the Decemviri were nominated — 
the Tribunate of the People being suspended — to supply the 
desideratum of a determinate legislation ; they perverted, as 
is well known, their unlimited power to tyranny ; and were 
driven from power on an occasion entailing similar disgrace 
to that which led to the punishment of the Kings. The de- 
pendence of the clientela was in the meantime weakened ; 
after the decemviral epoch the clientes are less and less pro- 
minent and are merged in the plebs, which adopts resolu- 
tions (plebiscita) ; the senate by itself could only issue 
senatus consulta, and the tribunes, as well as the senate, 
could now impede the comitia and elections. By degrees the 
plebeians efiected their admissibility to all dignities and 
offices ; but at first a plebeian consul, sedile, censor, &c. was not 
equal to the patrician one, on account of the sacra which the 
latter kept in his hands ; and a long time intervened after this 
concession before a plebeian actually became a consul. It was 
the tribunus plebis, Licinius, who established the whole 
cycle of these political arrangements, — in the second half o^ 
the fourth century, A. ij. c. 387. It was he also who chiefly 



814 PAET III. THE EOMAN WORLD. 

commenced tlie agitation for the lex agraria, respecting 
which so much has been written and debated among the 
learned of the day. The agitators for this law excited during 
every period very great commotions in Eome. The plebeians 
were practically excluded from almost all the landed property, 
and the object of the Agrarian Laws was to provide lands for 
them — partly in the neighbourhood of Eome, partly in the 
conquered districts, to which colonies were to be then led out. 
In the time of the Republic we frequently see military leaders 
assigning lands to the people ; but in every case they 
were accused of striving after royalty, because it was the 
kings who had exalted the plebs. The Agrarian Law re- 
quired that no citizen should possess more than five hundred 
jugera : the patricians were consequently obliged to surrender 
a large part of their property. Niebuhr in particular has 
undertaken extensive researches respecting the agrarian laws, 
and has conceived himself to have made great and important 
discoveries: he says, viz. that an infringement of the sacred 
right of property was never thought of, but that the state 
had only assigned a portion of the public lauds for the use of 
the plebs, having always had the right of disposing of them 
as its own property. I only remark in passing that Hege- 
wisch had made this discovery before Niebuhr, and that 
Niebuhr derived the particular data on which his asser- 
tion rests from Appian and Plutarch ; that is from Grreek 
authors, respecting whom he himself allows that we should 
have recourse to them only in an extreme case. How 
often does Livy, as well as Cicero and others, speak of the 
Agrarian laws, while nothing definite can be inferred from 
their statements ! — This is another proof of the inaccu- 
racy of the Eoman historians. The whole affair ends in no- 
thing but a useless question of jurisprudence. The land 
which the patricians had taken into possession or in which 
colonies settled, was originally public land ; but it also cer- 
tainly belonged to those in possession, and our information 
is not at all promoted by the assertion that it always remained 
public land. This discovery of Niebuhr's turns upon a very 
immaterial distinction, existing perhaps in his ideas, but 
not in reality. — The Licinianlaw was indeed carried, but 
soon transgressed and utterly disregarded. Licinius Sto^o 
himself, who had first ' agitated ' for the law, was punished 



SECT. I. HISTOllT TO THE SECOND PUNIC WAR. 315 

because lie possessed a larger property in land than was al- 
lowed, and the patricians opposed the execution of the law 
with the greatest obstinacy. We must here call especial at- 
tention to the distinction which exists between the B-oman, 
the G-reek, and our own circumstances. Our civil society rests 
on other principles, and in it such measures are not necessary. 
Spartans and Athenians, who had not arrived at such an ab- 
stract idea of the State as was so tenaciously held by the 
B/omans, did not trouble themselves with abstract rights, but 
simply desired that the citizens should have the means of 
subsistence ; and they required of the state that it should 
take care that such should be the case. 

This is the chief point in the first period of Eoman History 
— that the plebs attained the right of being eligible to the 
higher political offices, and that by a share which they too 
managed to obtain in the land and soil, the means of subsis- 
tence were assured to the citizens. JBy this union of the 
patriciate and the plebs, Eome first attained true internal 
consistency ; and only after this had been realized could the 
Eoman power develope itself externally. A period of satis- 
fied absorption in the common interest ensues, and the citizens 
are weary of internal struggles. "When after civil discords 
nations direct their energies outward, they appear in their 
greatest strength ; for the previous excitement continues, 
and no longer having its object within, seeks for it without. 
This direction given to the Eoman energies was able for a mo- 
ment to conceal the defect of that union ; equilibrium was 
restored, but without an essential centre of unity and sup- 
port. The contradiction that existed could not but break out 
again fearfully at a later period ; but previously to this time 
the greatness of Eome had to display itself in war and the 
conquest of the world. The power, the wealth, the glory 
derived from these wars, as also the difficulties to which they 
led, kept the Eomans together as regards the internal affairs 
of the state. Their courage and discipline secured their vic- 
tory. As compared with the G-reek or Macedonian, the Eo- 
man art of war has special peculiarities. The strength of the 
phalanx lay in its mass and in its massive character. The 
Eoman legions also present a close array, but they had 
at the same time an articulated organization : they united 
the two extremes of massiveness on the one hand, and of dis- 



816 PATIT III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

persion into light troops . on the other hand : they held 
firmly together, while at the same time they were capable of 
ready expansion. Archers and slingers preceded the main 
body of the Eoman army when they attacked the enemy, — 
afterwards leaving the decision to the sword. 

It would be a wearisome task to pursue the wars of the Eo- 
mans in Italy ; partly because they are in themselves unim- 
portant — even the often empty rhetoric of the generals in Livy 
cannot very much increase the interest — partly on account of 
the unintelligent character of the Roman annalists, in whose 
pages we see the Eomans carrying on war only with "enemies" 
without learning anything farther of their individuality — e.g. 
the Etruscans, the Samnites, the Ligurians, with whom they 
carried on wars during many hundred years. — It is singular in 
regard to these transactions that the Eomans, who have the 
justification conceded by World-History on their side, should 
also claim for themselves the minor justification in respect 
to manifestoes and treaties on occasion of minor infringe- 
ments of them, and maintain it as it were after the 
fashion of advocates. But in political complications of 
this kind, either party may take ofi'euce at the conduct of the 
other, if it pleases, and deems it expedient to be offended. — 
The Eomans had long and severe contests to maintain with 
the Samnites, the Etruscans, the Grauls, the Marsi, the Um- 
brians and the Bruttii, before they could make themselves 
masters of the whole of Italy. Their dominion was extended 
thence in a southerly direction ; they gained a secure footing 
in Sicily, where the Carthaginians had long carried on war ; 
then they extended their power towards the west : from 
Sardinia and Corsica they went to Spain. They thus soon 
came into frequent contact with the Carthaginians, and were 
obliged to form a naval power in opposition to them. This 
transition was easier in ancient times than it would perhaps 
be now, when long practice and superior knowledge are re- 
quired for maritime service. The mode of warfare at sea was 
not very different from that on land. 

We have thus reached the end of the first epoch of Eoman 
History, in which the Eomans by their retail military transac- 
tions had become capitalists in a strength proper to them- 
selves, and with which they were to appear ou the theatre of 



SECT. II. THE SECOND PUNIC WAS TO THE EMPEEORS. 317 

the world. The Eoman dominion was, on the whole, not yet 
very greatly extended : only a few colonies had settled on the 
other side of the Po, and on the south a considerable power 
confronted that of Eome. It was the Second Punic War, 
therefore, that gave the impulse to its terrible collision with 
the most powerful states of the time ; through it the [Romans 
came into contact with Macedonia, Asia, Syria, and subse- 
quently also with Egypt. Italy and Eome remained the centre 
of their great far-stretching empire, but this centre was, as al- 
ready remarked, not the less an artificial, forced, and compul- 
sory one. This grand period of the contact of Eome with 
other states, and of the manifold complications thence arising, 
has been depicted by the noble Achaean, Polybius, whose fate 
it was to observe the fall of his country through the dis- 
graceful passions of the G-reeks and the baseness and inexor- 
able persistency of the Eomans. 



SECTION 11. 

ROME FROM THE SECOND PUNIC WAR TO THE EMPERORS. 

The second period, according to our division, begins with 
the Second Punic AVar, that epoch which decided and 
stamped a character upon Eoman dominion. In the first 
Punic War the Eomans had shewn that they had become a 
match for the mighty Carthage, which possessed a great part 
of the coast of Africa and southern Spain, and had gained a 
firm footing in Sicily and Sardinia. The second Punic War 
laid the might of Carthage prostrate in the dust. The proper 
element of that state was the sea ; but it had no original 
territory, formed no nation, had no national army ; its hosts 
were composed of the troops of subjugated and allied peoples. 
In spite of this, the great Hannibal with such a host, formed 
from the most diverse nations, brought Eome near to destruc- 
tion. Without any support he maintained his position in 
Italy for sixteen years against Eoman patience and persever- 
ance; during which time however the Scipios conquered Spain 



318 PART III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

and entered into alliances with the princes of Africa. Han- 
nibal was at last compelled to hasten to the assistance of hia 
hard-pressed country ; he lost the battle of Zama in the year 
552 A. u. c. and after six and thirty years revisited his pater' 
nal city, to which he was now obliged to offer pacific counsels. 
The second Punic War thus eventually established the un« 
disputed power of E-ome over Carthage ; it occasioned the 
hostile collision of the Eomans with the king of Macedonia, 
who was conquered five years later. Now Antiochus, the king 
of Syria, is involved in the melee. He opposed a huge power 
to the Romans, was beaten at Thermopylse and Magnesia, and 
was compelled to surrender to the Romans Asia Minor as far 
as the Taurus. After the conquest of Macedonia both that 
country and Grreece were declared free by the Eomans, — a 
declaration whose meaning we have already investigated, in 
treating of the preceding Historical nation. It was not 
till this time that the Third Panic War commenced, for Car- 
thage had once more raised its head and excited the jealousy 
of the Eomans. After long resistance it was taken and laid 
in ashes. Nor could the Achaean league now long maintain 
itself in the face of Eoman ambition : the Eomans were 
eager for war, destroyed Corinth in the same year as Carthage, 
and made Q-reece a province. The fall of Carthage and the 
subjugation of Greece were the central points from which 
the Eomans gave its vast extent to their sovereignty. 

Eome seemed now to have attained perfect security ; no 
external power confronted it : she was the mistress of the 
Mediterranean — that is of the onedia terra of all civilization. 
In this period of victory, its morally great and fortunate 
personages, especially the Scipios, attract our attention. 
They were morally fortunate — although the greatest of the 
Scipios met with an end outwardly unfortunate — because 
they devoted their energies to their country during a period 
when it enjoyed a sound and unimpaired condition. But after 
the feeling of patriotism— the dominant instinct of Eome 
— had been satisfied, destruction immediately invades the 
state regarded en masse ; the grandeur of individual character 
becomes stronger in intensity, and more vigorous in the use 
of means, on account of contrasting circumstances. We 
see the internal contradiction of Eome now beginning 
to manifest itself in another form ; and the epoch which cou« 



SECT. II. THE SECOND PUNIC WAR TO THE EMPERORS. 319 

eludes the second period is also the second mediation of that 
contradiction. We observed that contradiction previously 
in the struggle of the patricians against the plebeians : now 
it assumes the form of private interest, contravening pa- 
triotic sentiment ; and respect for the state no longer holds 
these opposites in the necessary equipoise. E-ather, we 
observe now side by side with wars for conquest, plunder 
and glory, the fearful spectacle of civil discords in Eome, and 
intestine wars. There does not follow, as among the Grreeks 
after the Median wars, a period of brilliant splendour in 
culture, art and science, in which Spirit enjoys inwardly and 
ideally that which it had previously achieved in the world of 
action. If inward satisfaction was to follow the period of 
that external prosperity in war, the principle of Eoman life 
must be more concrete. But if there were such a concrete 
life to evolve as an object of consciousness from the depths of 
their souls by imagination and thought, what would it have 
been ! Their chief spectacles were triumphs, the treasures 
gained in war, and captives from all nations, unsparingly sub- 
jected to the yoke of abstract sovereignty. The concrete 
element, which the Eomans actually find within themselves, 
is only this unspiritual unity, and any definite thought or feel- 
ing of a non-abstract kind, can lie only in the idiosyncrasy of 
individuals. The tension of virtue is now relaxed, because the 
danger is past. At the time of the first Punic "War, necessity 
united the hearts of all for the saving of Eome. In the fol- 
lowing wars too, with Macedonia, Syria, and the Glauls in 
Upper Italy, the existence of the entire state was still con- 
cerned. But after the danger from Carthage and Macedon 
was over, the subsequent wars were more and more the 
mere consequences of victories, and nothing else was needed 
than to gather in their fruits. The armies were used for 
particular expeditions, suggested by policy, or for the ad- 
vantages of individuals, — for acquiring wealth, glory, sove- 
reignty/ in the abstract. The relation to other nations was 
purely that of force. The national individuality of peoples 
did not, as early as the time of the Eomans, excite respect, 
as is the case in modern times. The various peoples were 
not yet recognized as legitimated ; the various states had not 
yet acknowledged each other as real essential existences. 
Equal right to existence entails an union of states, such as 



320 PA.ET III. THE EOMAN WOELB. 

exists in modern Europe, or a condition like that of Greece, 
in which the states had an equal right to existence under the 
protection of the Delphic god. The Eomans do not enter 
into such a relation to the other nations, for their god is 
only the Jupiter Capitolinus ; neither do they respect the 
sacra of the other nations (any more than the plebeians those 
of the patricians) ; but as conquerors in the strict sense of 
the term, they plunder the Palladia of the nations. Eome 
kept standing armies in the conquered provinces, and pro- 
consuls and propraetors were sent into them as viceroys. 
The Equites collected the taxes and tributes, which they 
farmed under the State. A net of such fiscal farmers (publi- 
cani) was thus drawn over the whole Eoman world. — Cato 
used to say, after every deliberation of the senate : " Cete- 
rum censeo Carthaginem esse delendam :" and Cato was a 
thorough Eoman. The Eoman principle thereby exhibits 
itself as the cold abstraction of sovereignty and power, as the 
pure egotism of the will in opposition to others, involving no 
moral element of determioation, but appearing in a concrete 
form only in the shape of individual interests. Increase in 
the number of provinces issued in the aggrandisement of 
individuals within Eome itself, and the corruption thence 
arising. From Asia, luxury and debauchery were brought 
to Eome. Eiches flowed in after the fashion of spoils 
in war, and were not the fruit of industry and honest ac- 
ti\dty ; in the same way as the marine had arisen, not from 
the necessities of commerce, but with a warlike object. The 
Eoman state, drawing its resources from rapine, came to be 
rent in sunder by quarrels about dividing the spoil. Por the 
first occasion of the breaking out of contention within it, was 
the legacy of Attains, King of Pergamus, who had bequeathed 
his treasures to the Eoman State. Tiberius Gracchus came 
forward with the proposal, to divide it among the Eoman 
citizens ; he likewise renewed the Licinian Agrarian laws, 
which had been entirely set aside during the predominance 
of individuals in the state. His chief object was to pro- 
cure property for the free citizens, and to people Italy with 
citizens instead of slaves. This noble Eoman, however, was 
vanquished by the grasping nobles, for the Eoman constitu- 
tion was no longer in a condition to be saved by the consti- 
tution itself. Caius Gracchus, the brother of Tiberius, 



SECT. II. TH'ifi SECOND PUNIC WAR TO THE EMPEEOES. 321 

prosecuted the same noble aim as his brother, and shared the 
same fate. Buin now broke in unchecked, and as there 
existed no generally recognized and absolutely essential object 
to which the country's energy could be devoted, individuali- 
ties and physical force were in the ascendant. The enormous 
corruption of Eome displays itself in the war with Jugurtha, 
who had gained the senate by bribery, and so indulged 
himself in the most atrocious deeds of violence and crime. 
Home was pervaded by the excitement of the struggle against 
the Cimbri and Teutones, who assumed a menacing position 
towards the State. With great exertions the latter were 
utterly routed in Provence, near Aix ; the others in 
Lombardy at the Adige by Marius the conqueror of Ju- 
gurtha. Then the Italian allies, whose demand of Eoman 
citizenship had been refused, raised a revolt ; and while the 
Romans had to sustain a struggle against a vast power in 
Italy, they received the news, that at the command of 
Mithridates, 80,000 Eomans had been put to death in Asia 
Minor. Mithridates was King of Pontus, governed Colchis 
and the lands of the Black Sea, as far as the Tauric peninsula, 
and could summon to his standard in his war with Bome 
the populations of the Caucasus, of Armenia, Mesopotamia, 
and a part of Syria, through his son-in-law Tigranes. Sulla, 
who had already led the Boman hosts in the Social War, 
conquered him. Athens, which had hitherto been spared, 
was beleaguered and taken, but *' for the sake of their fathers" 
— as Sulla expressed himself— not destroyed. He then re- 
turned to Bome, reduced the popular faction, headed by 
Marius and Cinna, became master of the city, and commenced 
systematic massacres of Boman citizens of consideration. 
Porty senators and six hundred knights were sacrificed to 
his ambition and lust of power. 

Mithridates was indeed defeated, but not overcome, and 
was able to begin the war anew. At the same time, Ser- 
torius, a banished Boman, arose in revolt in Spain, carried 
on a contest there for eight years, and perished only through 
treachery. The war against Mithridates was terminated by 
Pompey ; the King of Pontus killed himself when his re- 
sources were exhausted. The Servile War in Italy is a 
contemporaneous event. A great number of gladiators and 
mountaineers had formed a union under Spartacus, but 

Y 



322 PAET III. THE ROMAN WOELD. 

were vanquislied by Crassus. To this confusion was added 
the universal prevalence of piracy, which Pompey rapidly 
reduced by a large armament. 

We thus see the most terrible and dangerous powers rising 
against Eome ; yet the military force of this state is victorious 
over all. Grreat individuals now appear on the stage as during 
the times of the fall of Grreece. The biographies of Plutarch 
are here also of the deepest interest. It was from the disrup- 
tion of the state, which had no longer any consistency or firm- 
ness in itself, that these colossal individualities arose, instinc- 
tively impelled to restore that political unity which was 
no longer to be found in men's dispositions. It is their 
misfortune that they cannot maintain a pure morality, for 
their course of action contravenes things as they are, and is 
a series of transgressions. Even the noblest — the Q-racchi 
— were not merely the victims of injustice and violence from 
without, but were themselves involved in the corruption and 
wrong that universally prevailed. But that which these 
individuals purpose and accomplish, has on its side the 
higher sanction of the World-Spirit, and must eventually 
triumph. The idea of an organization for the vast empire 
being altogether absent, the senate could not assert the 
authority of government. The sovereignty was made de- 
pendent on the people — that people which was now a 
mere mob, and was obliged to be supported by corn from 
the Eoman provinces. We should refer to Cicero to see 
how all affairs of state were decided in riotous fashion, and 
with arms in hand, by the wealth and power of the grandees 
on the one side, and by a troop of rabble on the other. The 
Roman citizens attach themselves to individuals who flatter 
them, and who then become prominent in factions, in order 
to make themselves masters of Rome. Thus we see in 
Pompey and Caesar the two foci of Rome's splendour coming 
into hostile opposition : on the one side, Pompey with 
the Senate, and therefore apparently the defender of the 
Republic,— on the other, Csesar with his legions and a 
superiority of genius. This contest between the two most 
powerful individualities could not be decided at Rome in the 
Eorum. Csesar made himself master in succession, of Italy, 
Spain, and Greece, utterly routed his enemy at Pharsalus, 
forty-eight years B.C., made himself sure of Asia, and so re- 
turned victor to Rome. 



SECT. II. FROM THE SECOND PUNIC WAR TO THE EMPIRE. 323 

In this way the world-wide sovereignty of Eome became 
the property of a single possessor. This important change 
must not be regarded as a thing of chance ; it was necessary 
— postulated by the circumstances. The democratic constitu- 
tion could no longer be really maintained in E-ome, but only 
kept up in appearance. Cicero, who had procured himself 
great respect through his high oratorical talent, and whose 
learning acquired him considerable influence, always attri- 
butes the corrupt state of the republic to individuals and their 
passions. Plato, whom Cicero professedly followed, had the 
full consciousness that the Athenian state, as it presented 
itself to him, could not maintain its existence, and there- 
fore sketched the plan of a perfect constitution accordant 
with his views. Cicero, on the contrary, does not consider 
it impossible to preserve the B-oman Eepublic, and only 
desiderates some temporary assistance for it in its adversity. 
The nature of the State, and of the Eoman State in par- 
ticular, transcends his comprehension. Cato, too, says of 
Caesar : ** His virtues be execrated, for they have ruined 
my country!" But it was not the mere accident of 
Caesar's existence that destroyed the Eepublic — it was 
Necessity. All the tendencies of the Eoman principle 
were to sovereignty and military force : it contained in it no 
spiritual centre which it could make the object, occupation, 
and enjoyment of its Spirit. The aim of patriotism — that 
of preserving the State — ceases when the lust of personal 
dominion becomes the impelling passion. The citizens 
were alienated from the state, for they found in it no objective 
satisfaction ; and the interests of individuals did not take the 
same direction as among the Grreeks, who could set against 
the incipient corruption of the practical world, the noblest 
works of art in painting, sculpture and poetry, and espe- 
cially a highly cultivated philosophy. Their works of art were 
only what they had collected from every part of Greece, and 
therefore not productions of their own ; their riches were not 
the fruit of industry, as was the case in Athens, but the result 
of plunder. Elegance — Culture — was foreign to the Eomans 
per se ; they sought to obtain it from the Greeks, and for 
this purpose a vast number of Greek slaves were brought to 
Eome. Delos was the centre of this slave trade, and it is 
said that sometimes on a single day, ten thousand slaves 

T 2 



824 PAET III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

wore purchased there. To the E-omans, Greek slaves were 
their poets, their authors, the superintendents of their 
manufactories, the instructors of their children. 

The Republic could not longer exist in Eome. "We see, 
especially from Cicero's writings, how all public affairs were 
decided by the private authority of the more eminent citizens 
— by their power, their wealth ; and what tumultuary pro- 
ceedings marked all political transactions. In the republic, 
therefore, there was no longer any security ; that could be 
looked for only in a single will. Caesar, who may be ad- 
duced as a paragon of Eoman adaptation of means to ends, 
— who formed his resolves with the most unerring per- 
spicuity, and executed them with the greatest vigour and 
practical skill, without any superfluous excitement of mind 
— Csesar, judged by the great scope of history, did the Eight; 
since he furnished a mediating element, and that kind of 
political bond which men's condition required. Caesar effected 
two objects : he calmed the internal strife, and at the same 
time originated a new one outside the limits of the empire. 
For the conquest of the world had reached hitherto only to 
the circle of the Alps, but Caesar opened a new scene of 
achievement: he founded the theatre which was on the 
point of becoming the centre of History. He then achieved 
universal sovereignty by a struggle which was decided not 
in Eome itself, but by his conquest of the whole Eoman 
World. His position was indeed hostile to the republic, 
but, properly speaking, only to its shadow; for all that 
remained of that republic was entirely powerless. Pompey, 
and all those who were on the side of the senate, exalted 
their dignitas auctoritas — their individual rule — as the power 
of the republic ; and the mediocrity which needed protection 
took refuge under this title. Caesar put an end to the empty 
formalism of this title, made himself master, and held to- 
gether the Koman world by force, in opposition to isolated 
factions. Spite of this we see the noblest men of Bome 
supposing Caesar's rule to be a merely adventitious thing, 
and the entire position of affairs to be dependent on his 
individuality. So thought Cicero, so Brutus and Cassius. 
They believed that if this one individual were out of the 
way, the E-epublic would be ipso facto restored. Possessed 
by this remarkable hallucination, Brutus, a man of highly 



SECT. III. EOME UNDEE THE EMPEEORS. 325 

noble character, and Cassius, endowed with greater practical 
energy than Cicero, assassinated the man whose virtues they 
appreciated. But it became immediately manifest that only 
a single will could guide the Eoman State, and now the 
Biomans were compelled to adopt that opinion ; since in all 
periods of the world a political revolution is sanctioned in 
men's opinions, when it repeats itself. Thus Napoleon was 
twice defeated, and the Bourbons twice expelled. By repe- 
tition that which at first appeared merely a matter of chance 
and contingency, becomes a real and ratified existence. 



SECTION III. 



CHAPTER I. 

ROME UNDER THE EMPERORS. 

DuEiNG this period the Eomans come into contact with 
the people destined to succeed them as a World-Historical 
nation ; and we have to consider that period in two essential 
aspects, the secular and the spiritual. In the secular aspect 
two leading phases must be specially regarded : first, the 
position of the Buler ; and secondly, the conversion of mere 
individuals tcA>o persons— \h.Q world of legal relations. 

The first thing to be remarked respecting the imperial 
rule, is that the E-oman government was so abstracted from 
interest, that the great transition to that rule hardly 
changed anything in the constitution. The popular assem- 
blies alone were unsuited to the new state of things, and 
disappeared. The emperor was princeps senatus, Censor, 
Consul, Tribune : he united all their nominally continuing 
offices in himself ; and the military power — here the most 
essentially important — was exclusively in his hands. The 
constitution was an utterly unsubstantial form, from which 
all vitality, consequently aU might and power, had de- 
parted; and the only means of maintaining its existence 
were the legions which the Emperor constantly kept in the 
vicinity of Eome. Public business was indeed brought 
before the senate, and the Emperor appeared simply as one 



326 PART III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

of its members ; but the senate was obliged to obey, and 
whoever ventui'ed to gainsay his will was punished with 
death, and his property confiscated. Those therefore who 
had certain death in anticipation, killed themselves, that it 
they could do nothing more, they might at least preserve 
their property to their family. Tiberius was the most 
odious to the Eomans on account of his power of dissimula- 
tion : he knew very well how to make good use of the base- 
ness of the senate, in extirpating those among them whom 
he feared. The power of the Emperor rested, as we have 
said, on the army, and the Praetorian body-guard which sur- 
rounded him. But the legions, and especially the Praetorians, 
soon became conscious of their importance, and arrogated to 
themselves the disposal of the imperial throne. At first 
they continued to shew some respect for the family of Caesar 
Augustus, but subsequently the legions chose their own 
generals ; such, viz., as had gained their good will and 
favour, partly by courage and intelligence, partly also by 
bribes, and indulgence in the administration of military 
discipline. 

The Emperors conducted themselves in the enjoyment of 
their power with perfect simplicity, and did not surround 
themselves with pomp and splendour in Oriental fashion. 
"We find in them traits of simplicity which astonish us; 
Thus, e.g.^ Augustus writes a letter to Horace, in which he 
reproaches him for having failed to address any poem to him, 
and asks him whether he thinks that that would disgrace 
him with posterity. Sometimes the Senate made an attempt 
to regain its consequence by nominating the Emperor : but 
their nominees were either unable to maintain their ground, 
or could do so only by bribing the Praetorians. The choice 
of the senators and the constitution of the senate was more- 
over left entirely to the caprice of the Emperor. The politi- 
cal institutions were united in the person of the Emperor ; 
no moral bond any longer existed ; the will of the Emperor 
was supreme, and before him there was absolute equality. 
The freedmen who surrounded the Emperor were often the 
mightiest in the empire ; for caprice recognizes no distinc- 
tion. In the person of the Emperor isolated subjectivity 
has gained a perfectly unlimited realization. Spirit has re- 
nounced its proper nature, inasmuch as Limitation of being 



SECT. III. EOME ITKDEE THE EMPERORS. 327 

and of volition has been constituted an unlimited absolute 
existence. This arbitrary choice, moreover^ has only one 
limit, the limit of all that is human — death, ; <vnd even death 
became a theatrical display. Nero, e.g., died a death, which 
may furnish an example for the noblest hero, as for the most 
resigned of sufferers. Individual subjectivity thus entirely 
emancipated from control, has no inward life, no prospective 
nor retrospective emotions, no repentance, nor hope, nor fear — 
not even thought ; for all these involve fixed conditions and 
aims, while here every condition is purely contingent. The 
springs of action are none other than desire, lust, passion, 
fancy — in short, caprice absolutely unfettered. It finds so 
little limitation in the will of others, that the relation of will 
to will may be called that of absolute sovereignty to absolute 
slavery. In the whole known world, no will is imagined 
that is not subject to the will of the Emperor. But under 
the sovereignty of that One, everything is in a condition of 
order ; for as it actually is [as the Emperor has willed it], it 
is in due order, and government consists in bringing all into 
harmony with the sovereign One. The concrete element in 
the character of the Emperors is therefore of itself of no 
interest, because the concrete is not of essential importance. 
Thus there were Emperors of noble character and noble 
nature, and who highly distinguished themselves by mental 
and moral culture. Titus, Trajan, the Antonines, are 
known as such characters, rigorously strict in self-govern- 
ment ; yet even these produced no change in the state. The 
proposition was never made during their time, to give the 
B-oman Empire an organization of free social relationship : 
they were only a kind of happy chance, which passes over 
without a trace, and leaves the condition of things as it 
was. For these persons find themselves here in a position 
in which they cannot be said to act, since no object 
confronts them in opposition ; they have only to will — well 
or ill — and it is so. The praiseworthy emperors Vespasian 
and Titus were succeeded by that coarsest and most loath- 
some tyrant, Domitian : yet the Eoman historian tells us 
that the Eoman world enjoyed tranquillizing repose under 
him. Those single points of light, therefore, effected no 
change ; the whole empire was subject to the pressure of 
taxation and plunder ; Italy was depopulated ; the most 



328 PABT III. THE ROMAN WOELD. " 

fertile lands remained untilled : and this state of things lay 
as a fate on the Eoman world. 

The second point which we have particularly to remark, 
is the position taken by individuals as persons. Individuals 
were perfectly equal (slavery made only a trifling distinc- 
tion), and without any political rights. As early as the 
termination of the Social War, the inhabitants of the whole 
of Italy were put on an equal footing with Koman citizens ; 
and under Caracalla all distinction between the subjects of 
the entire Eoman empire was abolished. Private Eight de- 
veloped and perfected this equality. The right of property 
had been previously limited by distinctions of various kinds, 
which were now abrogated. We observed the Eomans pro- 
ceeding from the principle of abstract Subjectivity, which 
now realizes itself as Personality in the recognition of Private 
Eight. Private Eight, viz., is this, that the social unit as 
such enjoys consideration in the state, in the reality which 
he gives to himself — viz., in property. The living political 
body — that Eoman feeling which animated it as its soul — 
is now brought back to the isolation of a lifeless Private 
Eight. As, when the physical body suffers dissolution, each 
point gains a life of its own, but which is only the miserable 
life of worms ; so the political organism is here dissolved into 
atoms— viz., private persons. Such a condition is Eoman 
life at this epoch : on the one side, Fate and the abstract 
universality of sovereignty; on the other, the individual 
abstraction, " Person," which involves the recognition of 
the independent dignity of the social unit — not on the 
ground of the display of the life which he possesses — in his 
complete individuality — but as the abstract individuum. 

It is the pride of the social units to enjoy absolute im- 
portance as private persons ; for the Ego is thus enabled to 
assert unbounded claims ; but the substantial interest thus 
comprehended — the meum — is only of a superficial kind, and 
the development of private right, which this high principle 
introduced, involved the decay of political life. — The 
Emperor domineered only, and could not be said to rule ; for 
the equitable and moral medium between the sovereign and 
the subjects was wanting — the bond of a constitution and 
organization of the state, in which a gradation of circles of 
social life, enjoying independent recognition, exists in com- 



SECT. III. ROME TJNDEE THE EMPEROES. 329 

munities and provinces, whicb, devoting their energies 
to the general interest, exert an influence on the general 
government. There are indeed Curiae in the towns, but 
they are either destitute of weight, or used only as means 
for oppressing individuals, and for systematic plunder. That, 
therefore, which was abidingly present to the minds of men 
was not their country, or such a moral unity as that supplies : 
the whole state of things urged them to yield themselves to 
fate, and to strive for a perfect indifierence to life, — an in- 
difference which they sought either in freedom of thought 
or in directly sensuous enjoyment. Thus man was either at 
war with existence, or entirely given up to mere sen- 
suous existence. He either recognized his destiny in the 
task of acquiring the means of enjoyment through the 
favour of the Emperor, or through violence, testamentary 
frauds, and cunning ; or he sought repose in philosophy, 
which alone was still able to supply something firm and 
independent : for the systems of that time — Stoicism, Epi- 
cureanism, and Scepticism — although within their com- 
mon sphere opposed to each other, had the same general 
purport, viz., rendering the soul absolutely indifferent to 
everything which the real world had to offer. These phi- 
losophies were therefore widely extended among the culti- 
vated: they produced in man a self-reliant immobility as 
the result of Thought, i.e. of the activity which produces the 
Universal. But the inward reconciliation by means of 
philosophy was itself only an abstract one — in the pure 
principle of personality ; for Thought, which, as perfectly 
refined, made itself its own object, and t has harmonized itself, 
was entirely destitute of a real object, and the immobility 
of Scepticism made aimlessness itself the object of the "Will. 
This philosophy knew nothing but the negativity of all that 
assumed to be real, and was the counsel of despair to a 
world which no longer possessed anything stable. It could 
not satisfy the living Spirit, which longed after a higher 
reconciliation. 



330 PART III. THE ROMAN -VVOELD. 

CHAPTER II. 

CHRISTIANITY. 

It has been remarked that Caesar inaugurated the Modem 
World on the side of reality, while its spiritual and inward 
existence was unfolded under Augustus. At the beginning of 
that empire, whose principle we have recognized as finiteness 
and particular subjectivity exaggerated to injBnitude, the 
salvation of the "World had its birth in the same principle of 
subjectivity — viz., as a particular person, in abstract subjec- 
tivity, but in such a way that conversely, finiteness is only 
the fonn of his appearance, while infinity and absolutely 
independent existence constitute the essence and substantial 
being which it embodies. The Eoman World, as it has been 
described — in its desperate condition and the pain of aban- 
doQment by God — came to an open rupture with reality, and 
made prominent the general desire for a satisfaction such as 
can only be attained in "the inner man," the Soul, — thus 
preparing the ground for a higher Spiritual World. Eome 
was the Fate that crushed down the gods and all genial life 
in its hard service, while it was the power that purified the 
human heart from all speciality. Its entire condition is 
therefore analogous to a place of birth, and its pain is like the 
travail-throes of another and higher Spirit, which manifested 
itself in connection with the CJwistian B^eligion. This higher 
Spirit involves the reconciliation and emancipation of Spirit ; 
while man obtains the consciousness of Spirit in its univer- 
sality and infinity. The Absolute Object, Truth, is Spirit ; 
and as man himself is Spirit, he is present [is mirrored] to 
himself in that object, and thus in his Absolute Object has 
found Essential Being and his own essential being.* But in 
order that the objectivity of Essential Being may be done 
away with, and Spirit be no longer alien to itself— may be 
loith itself, [self-harmonized] — the Naturahiess of Spirit — 

* The harsh requirements of an ungenial tyranny call forth man's 
highest powers of self-sacrifice ; he learns his moral capacity ; dis- 
satisfaction with anything' short of perfection ensues, — consciousness of 
sin ; and this sentiment in its greatest intensity, produces union with God. 
— Tr. 



SECT. III. EOME UNDEE THE EMPEEOES — CHRISTIANITY. 331 

that ill virtue of which man is a special, empirical existence 
— must be removed ; so that the alien element may be de- 
stroyed, and the reconciliation of Spirit be accomplished. . 

Grod is thus recognized as Spirit, only when known as the 
Triune. This new principle is the axis on which the History 
of the "World turns. This is tlie goal and the starting point 
of History. " When the fulness of the time was come, Grod 
sent his Son," is the statement of the Bible. This means 
nothing else than that self-consciousness had reached the 
phases of development [Momente], whose resultant consti- 
tutes the Idea of Spirit, and had come to feel the necessity 
of comprehending those phases absolutely. This must now 
be more fully explained. "We said of the Greeks, that the 
law for their Spirit was : " Man, know thyself." The Grreek 
Spirit was a consciousness of Spirit, but under a limited 
form, having the element of l^ature as an essential ingre- 
dient. Spirit may have had the upper hand, but the unity 
of the superior and the subordinate was itself still Natural. 
Spirit appeared as specialized in the idiosyncrasies of the 
genius of the several Greek nationalities and of their di- 
vinities, and was represented by Art, in whose sphere the 
Sensuous is elevated only to the middle ground of beautiful 
form and shape, but not to pure Thought. The element of 
Subjectivity that was wanting to the Greeks, we found 
among the E;omans : but as it was merely formal and in 
itself indefinite, it took its material from passion and caprice ; 
— even the most shameful degradations could be here con- 
nected with a divine dread (vide the declaration of Hispala 
respecting the Bacchanalia, Livy xxxix. 13). This element 
of subjectivity is afterwards further realized as Personality 
of Individuals — a realization which is exactly adequate to 
the principle, and is equally abstract and formal. As such 
an Ego [such a personality], I am infinite to myself, and my 
phenomenal existence consists in the property recognized as 
mine, and the recognition of my personality. This inner 
existence goes no further ; all the applications of the prin- 
ciple merge in this. Individuals are thereby posited as 
atoms ; but they are at the same time subject to the severe 
rule of the One, which as monas monadum is a power over 
private persons [the connection between the ruler and the 
ruled is not mediated by the claim of Divine or of Con- 



332 PART III. THE EOMAK WOELD, 

stitutional Eight, or any general principle, but is direct 
and individual, the Emperor being the immediate lord of 
each subject in the Empire], That Private Eight is there- 
fore, ipso facto, a nullity, an ignoring of the personality ; 
and the supposed condition of Eight turns out to be 
an absolute destitution of it. This contradiction is the 
misery of the Roman World. Each person is, according to 
the principle of his personality, entitled only to possession, 
while the Person of Persons lays claim to the possession of 
all these individuals, so that the right assumed by the social 
unit is at once abrogated and robbed of validity. But the 
misery of this contradiction is the Discipline of the World. 
"Zucht" (discipline) is derived from " Ziehen" (to draw).* 
This " drawing " must be towards something ; there must 
be some fixed unity in the background in whose direction 
that drawing takes place, and for which the subject of it is 
being trained, in order that the standard of attainment may 
be reached. A renunciation, a disaccustoming, is the means 
of leading to an absolute basis of existence. That contra- 
diction which afflicts the Eoman World is the very state of 
things which constitutes such a discipline — the discipline of 
that culture which compels personality to display its nothing- 
ness. But it is reserved for us of a later period to regard 
this as a training ; to those who are thus trained \train6s, 
dragged], it seems a blind destiny, to which they submit in 
the stupor of suffering. The higher condition, in which the 
soul itself feels pain and longing— in which man is not only 
" drawn," but feels that the drawing is into himself [into his 
own inmost nature] — is still absent. What has been reflection 
on our part must arise in the mind of the subject of this dis- 
cipline in the form of a consciousness that in himself he is 
miserable and null. Outward suffering must, as already said, 
be merged in a sorrow of the inner man. He must feel himself 
as the negation of himself; he must see that his misery is 
the misery of his nature — that he is in himself a divided and 
discordant being. This state of mind, this self-chastening, 
this pain occasioned by our individual nothingness — the 
wretchedness of our [isolated] self, and the longing to tran- 
scend this condition of soul— must be looked for elsewhere 

* So the English *' train " from French " trainer *W to di aw or drag. — Tr, 



SECT. III. EOME ITIfDEE THE EMPEEOES — CHEISTIANITY. 333 

than in the properly Boman "World. It is this which gives 
to the Jewish People their "World-Historical importance and 
weight ; for from this state of mind arose that higher phase 
in which Spirit came to absolute self-consciousness — passing 
from that alien form of being which is its discord and pain, 
and mirroring itself in its own essence. The state of feeling 
in question we find expressed most purely and beautifully in 
the Psalms of David, and in the Prophets ; the chief burden 
of whose utterances is the thirst of the soul after God, its 
profound sorrow for its transgressions, and the desire for 
righteousness and holiness. Of this Spirit we have the 
mythical representation at the very beginning of the Jewish 
canonical books, in the account of the Fall. Man, created 
in the image of Grod, lost, it is said, his state of absolute con- 
tentment, by eating of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good 
and Evil. Sin consists here only in Knowledge : this is the 
sinful element, and by it man is stated to have trifled away 
his Natural happiness. This is a deep truth, that evil lies in 
consciousness : for the brutes are neither evil nor good ; the 
merely Natural Man quite as little.* Consciousness occa- 
sions the separation of the Ego, in its boundless freedom as 
arbitrary choice, from the pure essence of the Will — i.e., 
from the Good. Knowledge, as the disannulling of the unity 
of mere Nature, is the " Fall," which is no casual concep- 
tion, but the eternal history of Spirit. For the state of 
innocence, the paradisaical condition, is that of the brute. 
Paradise is a park, where only brutes, not men, can remain. 
For the brute is one with God only implicitly [not con- 
sciously]. Only Man's Spirit (that is) has a self-cognizant 
existence. This existence for self, this consciousness, is at 
the same time separation from the Universal and Divine 
Spirit. If I hold to my abstract Freedom, in contraposition 
to the Good, I adopt the stand-point of Evil. The Fall is 
therefore the eternal Mythus of Man — in fact, the very 
transition by which he becomes man. Persistence in this 
stand-point is, however. Evil, and the feeling of pain at such 
a condition, and of longing to transcend it, we find in 
David, when he says : " Lord, create for me a pure heart, a 
new steadfast Spirit." This feeling we observe even in the 

* " I was alive without the law once, &c." Rom. vii. 9. — Tr. 



334 PART III. The eoman world. 

account of the Fall ; though an announcement of Eeconcilia. 
tion is not made there, but rather one of continuance in 
misery. Yet we have in this narrative the prediction of re- 
conciliation in the sentence, " The serpent's head shall be 
bruised;" but still more profoundly expressed vrhere it is 
stated that when Grod saw that Adam had eaten of that tree, 
he said, '* Behold Adam is become as one of us, knowing 
Good and Evil." God confirms the words of the Serpent. 
Implicitly and explicitly, then, we have the truth, that man 
through Spirit — through cognition of the Universal and the 
Particular — comprehends God Himself. But it is only God 
that declares this, — not man: the latter remains, on the 
contrary, in a state of internal discord. The joy of recon- 
ciliation is still distant from humanity ; the absolute and 
final repose of his whole being is not yet discovered to man. 
It exists, in the first instance, only for God. As far as the 
present is concerned, the feeling of pain at his condition is 
regarded as a final award. The satisfaction which man 
enjoys at first, consists in the finite and temporal blessings 
conferred on the Chosen Family and the possession of the 
Land of Canaan. His repose is not found in God. Sacri- 
fices are, it is true, offered to Him in the Temple, and atone- 
ment made by outward offerings and inward penitence. But 
that mundane satisfaction in the Chosen Family, and its 
possession of Canaan, was taken from the Jewish people in 
the chastisement inflicted by the Roman Empire. The 
Syrian kings did indeed oppress it, but it was left for the 
Komans to annul its individuality. The Temple of Zion is 
destroyed ; the God-serving nation is scattered to the winds. 
Here every source of satisfaction is taken away, and the 
nation is driven back to the stand-point of that primeval 
mythus — the stand-point of that painful feeling which hu- 
manity experiences when thrown upon itself. Opposed to 
the universal Fatmn of the E-oman AVorld, we have here the 
consciousness of Evil and the direction of the mind God- 
wards. All that remains to be done, is that this funda- 
mental idea should be expanded to an objective universal 
sense, and be taken as the concrete existence of man — as the 
completion of his nature. Formerly the Land of Canaan 
and themselves as the people of God had been regarded by 
the Jews g-s that concrete and complete existence. But this 



SECT. III. HOME UJTDER THE EMPEEOES — CHRISTIAKITT. 335 

basis of satisfaction is now lost, and thence arises the sense 
of misery and failure of hope in Grod, with whom that happy- 
reality had been essentially connected. Here, then, misery 
is not the stupid immersion in a blind Eate, but a boundless 
energy of longing. Stoicism taught only that the Negative 
is not — that pain must not be recognized as a veritable ex- 
istence ; but Jewish feeling persists in acknowledging Eeality 
and desires harmony and reconciliation within its sphere ; 
for that feeling is based on the Oriental Unity of j^ature — 
i.e., the unity of Eeality, of Subjectivity, with the substance 
of the One Essential Being. Through the loss of mere out- 
ward reality Spirit is driven back within itself ; the side of 
reality is thus refined to Universality, through the reference 
of it to the One. The Oriental antithesis of Light and 
Darkness is transferred to Spirit, and the Darkness becomes 
Sin. For the abnegation of reality there is no compensation 
but Subjectivity itself — the Human Will as intrinsically 
universal; and thereby alone does reconciliation become 
possible. Sin is the discerning of Grood and Evil as separa- 
tion; but this discerning likewise heals the ancient hurt, 
and is the fountain of infinite reconciliation. The discerning 
in question brings with it the destruction of that which is 
external and alien in consciousness, and is consequently the 
return of Subjectivity into itself. This, then, adopted into 
the actual self-consciousness of the World is the Beconcilia- 
tion [atonement] of the World. Erom that unrest of infi- 
nite sorrow — in which the two sides of the antithesis stand 
related to each other — is developed the unity of Grod with 
Eeality (which latter had been posited as negative) i.e., with 
Subjectivity which had been separated from Him. The 
infinite loss is counterbalanced only by its infinity, and 
thereby becomes infinite gain. The recognition of the iden- 
tity of the Subject and G-od was introduced into the World 
when the fulness of Time was come : the consciousness of 
this identity is the recognition of God in his true essence. 
The material of Truth is Spirit itself — inherent vital move- 
ment. The nature of Grod as pure Spirit, is manifested to 
man in the Christian JReligion. 

But what is Spirit? It is the one immutably homo- 
geneous Infinite — pure Identity— which in its second pliase 
separates itself from itself and makes this second aspect its own 



336 PAET III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

polar opposite, viz. as existence for and in self as contrasted 
with the Universal. But this separation is annulled by the 
fact that atomistic Subjectivity, as simple relation to itseLf, [as 
occupied with self alone,] is itself the Universal, the Identical 
with self. If Spirit be defined as absolute reflection within 
itself in virtue of its absolute duality— Love on the one 
hand as comprehending the Emotional, [Empfindung] 
Knowledge on the other hand as Spirit [including the penetra- 
tive and active faculties, as opposed to the receptive] — it is 
recognized as Triune: the "Father" and the " Son," and that 
duality which essentially characterizes it as " Spirit." It must 
further be observed, that in this truth, the relation of man to 
this truth is also posited. Eor Spirit makes itself its own 
[polar] opposite — and is the return from this opposite into 
itself. Comprehended in pure ideality, that antithetic form 
of Spirit is the Son of Grod ; reduced to limited and 
particular conceptions, it is the World — Nature and 
Einite Spirit : Finite Spirit itself therefore is posited 
as a constituent element [Moment] in the Divine Being. 
Man himself therefore is comprehended in the Idea of 
God, and this comprehension may be thus expressed — 
that the unity of Man with God is posited in the Christian 
Religion. But this unity must not be superficially con- 
ceived, as if God were only Man, and Man, without further 
condition, were God. Man, on the contrary, is God only in so 
far as he annuls the merely Natural and Limited in his Spirit 
and elevates himself to God. That is to say, it is obliga- 
tory on him who is a partaker of the truth, and knows that 
he himself is a constituent [Moment] of the Divine Idea, 
to give up his merely natural being : for the Natural is 1 he 
Unspiritual. In this Idea of God, then, is to be found also 
the Beconciliation that heals the pain and inward sufi'ering of 
man. Eor Suffering itself is henceforth recognized as an 
instrument necessary for producing the unity of man with 
God. This implicit unity exists in the first place only for 
the thinking speculative consciousness ; but it must also 
exist for the sensuous, representative consciousness, — ii 
must become an object for the "World, — it must appear, and 
that in the sensuous form appropriate to Spirit, which is the 
human. Christ has appeared, — a Man who is God, — God 
who is Man ; and thereby peace and reconciliation have 



SECT. III. EOME UNDER THE EMPEEOES — CHEISTIANITY. 337 

accrued to the World. Our thoughts naturally reverts to the 
Greek anthropomorphism, of which we afl&rmed that it did not 
go far enough. For that natural elation of soul which charac- 
terized the Greeks did not rise to the Subjective Freedom of 
the Ego itself — to the inwardness that belongs to the Christian 
Religion — to the recognition of Spirit as a definite 'positive 
being.— The appearance of the Chris ian God involves fur- 
ther its being unique in its kind ; it can occur only once, 
for God is realized as Subject, and as manifested Subjectivity 
is exclusively One Individual. The Lamas are ever and 
anon chosen anew ; because God is known in the East as 
Substance, whose infinity of form is recognized merely in an 
unlimited multeity of outward and particular manifestations. 
But subjectivity as infinite relation to self, has its form in 
itself, and as manifested, must be a unity excluding all others. 
— Moreover the sensuous existence in which Spirit is em- 
bodied is only a transitional phase. Christ dies ; only as 
dead, is he exalted to Heaven and sits at the right hand of 
God ; only thus is he Spirit. He himself says : " When I 
am no longer with you, the Spirit will guide you into all 
truth." Not till the Feast of Pentecost were the Apostles 
filled with the Holy Ghost. To the Apostles, Christ as 
living, was not that which he was to them subsequently as 
the Spirit of the Church, in which he became to them for the 
first time an object for their truly spiritual consciousness. 
On the same principle, we do not adopt the right point of 
view in thinking of Christ only as an historical bygone per- 
sonality. So regarded, the question is asked. What are we 
to make of his birth, his Father and Mother, his early 
domestic relations, his miracles, &c.? — i, e. What is he unspi- 
ritually regarded ? Considered only in respect of his talents, 
character and morahty — as a Teacher and so forth — we place 
him in the same category with Socrates and others, though 
his morality may be ranked higher. But excellence of 
character, morality, &c. — all this is not the ne plus ultra in 
the requirements of Spirit — does not enable man to gain the 
speculative idea of Spirit for his conceptive faculty. If 
Christ is to be looked upon only as an excellent, even im- 
peccable individual, and nothing more, the conception of the 
Speculative Idea, of Absolute Truth is ignored. But this is 
the desideratum, the point from which we have to start. 



338 PAET III. THE EOMAI^- WOELD. 

Make of Christ what you will, exegetically, critically, histori- 
cally, — demonstrate as you please, how the doctrines of tho 
Church were established by Councils, attained currency as 
the result of this or that episcopal interest or passion, or 
originated in this or that quarter ; — let all such circumstances 
have been what they might, — the only concerning question 
is : What is the Idea or the Truth in and for itself ? 

Further, the real attestation of the Divinity of Christ is the 
witness of one's own Spirit,— not Miracles ; for only Spirit 
recognizes Spirit. The miracles may lead the way to such 
recognition. A miracle implies that the natural course of 
things is interrupted : but it is very much a question of 
relation what we call the "natural course;" and the 
phenomena of the magnet might under cover of this defi- 
nition, be reckoned miraculous. Nor does the miracle of the 
Divine Mission of Christ prove anything ; for Socrates like- 
wise introduced a new self- consciousness on the part of 
Spirit, diverse from the traditional tenor of men's concep- 
tions. The main question is not his Divine Mission but 
the revelation made in Christ and the purport of his mission. 
Christ himself blames the Pharisees for desiring miracles 
of him, and speaks of false prophets who will perform 
miracles. 

We have next to consider how the Christian view resulted 
in the formation of the Church. To pursue the rationale of 
its development from the Idea of Christianity would lead 
us too far, and we have here to indicate only the general 
phases which the process assumed. The first phase is the 
founding of the Christian religion, in which its principle is 
expressed with unrestrained energy, but in the first instance 
abstractly. This we find in the Gospels, where the infinity 
of Spirit, — its elevation into the spiritual world [as the exclu- 
sively true and authorized existence] — is the main theme. 
"With transcendant boldness does Christ stand forth among 
the Jewish people. " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they 
shall see God," he proclaims in the Sermon on the Mount, 
— a dictum of the noblest simplicity, and pregnant with an 
elastic energy of rebound against all the adventitious 
appliances with which the human soul can be burdened. 
The pure heart is the domain in which God is present to 
man : he who is imbued with the spirit of this apophthegm 



SECT. III. EOME UNDEE THE EMPEBOES — CHEISTIANITT. 33& 

is armed against all alien bonds and superstitions. The other 
utterances are of the same tenor: "Blessed are the peace- 
makers : for they shall be called the children of God ;" and, 
" Blessed are thev which are persecuted for righteousness' 
sake : for their' s is the kingdom of heaven ;" and, '* Be ye 
perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect." 
Christ enforces here a completely unmistakeable requirement. 
The infinite exaltation of Spirit to absolute purity is 
placed at the beginning as the foundation of all. The form of 
the instrumentality by which that result is to be accomplished 
is not yet given, but the result itself is the subject of an 
absolute command. As regards the relation of this stand- 
point of Spirit to secular existence, we find that spiritual 
purity presented as the substantial basis. " Seek ye first 
the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all things 
shall be added unto you;" and, " The sufferings of this pre- 
sent time are not worthy to be compared with that glory."* 
Here Christ says that outward sufferings, as such, are not to 
be feared or fled from, for they are nothing as compared with 
that glory. Further on, this doctrine, as the natural conse- 
quence of its appearing in an abstract form, assumes 2i polemi- 
cal direction. " If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out and 
cast it from thee : if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off and 
cast it from thee. It is better that one of thy members 
should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast 
into hell." Whatever might disturb the purity of the soul,, 
should be destroyed. So in reference to property and 
worldly gain, it is said : " Care not for your life, what ye shall 
eat and drink, nor for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not 
the life more than meat, and the body more than raiment ? 
Behold the fowls of the air : for they sow not, neither do 
they reap, nor gather into barns ; yet your heavenly Father 
feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they ?" 
Labour for subsistence is thus reprobated : '* "Wilt thou be 
perfect, go and sell what thou hast, and give it to the poor, so 
shalt thou have a treasure in heaven, and come, follow me." 
Were this precept directly complied with, a social revolu- 
tion must take place ; the poor would become the rich. Of 

* The words in the text occur in Rom. viii. 18. but the import of Matt.. 
V. 12. 18 nearly the same. Tr. 



340 PABT III. THE EOMAN WORLD. 

such supreme moment, it is implied, is the doctrine of 
Christ, that all duties and moral bonds are unimportant as 
compared with it. To a youth who wishes to delay the duties 
of discipleship till he has buried his father, Christ says : 
" Let t^e dead bury their dead — follow thou me.'* " He that 
loveth father or mother more than me is not worthy of 
me." He said: "Who is my mother? and who are my 
brethren ? and stretched his hand out over his disciples and 
said, Behold my mother and my brethren ! For he that 
doeth the will of my Pather in heaven, the same is mv 
brother, and sister and mother." Yes, it is even said : " Think 
not that I am come to send peace on the Earth. I am not 
come to send peace hut the sword. For I am come to set a 
man against his father, and the daughter against her mother j 
and the mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law.'* Here 
then is an abstraction from all that belongs to reality, even 
from moral ties. We may say that nowhere are to be found 
such revolutionary utterances as in the Gospels ; for every- 
thing that had been respected, is treated as a matter of in- 
difference — as worthy of no regard. 

The next point is the development of this principle ; 
and the whole sequel of History is the history of its 
development. Its first realization is the formation by the 
friends of Christy of a Society — a Church. It has been al- 
ready remarked that only after the death of Christ could the 
Spirit come upon his friends ; that only then were they able to 
conceive the true idea of Grod, viz., that in Christ man is 
redeemed and reconciled : for in him the idea of eternal truth 
is recognized, the essence of man acknowledged to be Spirit, 
and the fact proclaimed that only by stripping himself of hia 
finiteness and surrendering himself to pure self-consciousness, 
does he attain the truth. Christ — man as man — in whom 
the unity of Q-od and man has appeared, has in his death, and 
his history generally, himself presented the eternal history of 
Spirit, — a history which every man has to accomphsh in him- 
self, in order to exist as Spirit, or to become a child of Grod, 
a citizen of his kingdom. The followers of Christ, who 
combine on this principle and live in the spiritual life as their 
aim, form the Church, which is the Kingdom of Grod. " Where 
two or three are gathered together in my name" {i. e. " in 
the character of partakers in my being") says Christ, 



SECT. III. EOME TJITDEE THE EMPERORS — CHRISTIANITT. 341 

•' there am I in the midst of them." The Church is a real 
present life in the Spirit of Christ. 

It is important that the Christian religion be not limited 
to the teachings of Christ himself : it is in the Apostles 
that the completed and developed truth is first exhibited. 
This complex of thought unfolded itself in the Christian com- 
munity. That community, in its first experiences, found 
itself sustaining a double relation — first, a relation to the 
Eoman World, and secondly, to the truth whose develop- 
ment was its aim. We will pursue these different relations 
separately. 

The Christian community found itself in the Eoman world, 
and in this world the extension of the Christian religion 
was to take place. That community must therefore keep 
itself removed from all activity in the State— constitute it- 
self a separate company, and not react against the decrees, 
views, and transactions of the state. But as it was secluded 
from the state, and consequently did not hold the Emperor 
for its absolute sovereign, it was the object of persecution 
and hate. Then was manifested that infinite inward liberty 
which it enjoyed, in the great steadfastness with which suf- 
ferings and sorrows were patiently borne for the sake of the 
highest truth. It was less the miracles of the Apostles 
that gave to Christianity its outward extension and inward 
strength, than the substance, the truth of the doctrine itself. 
Christ himself says : " Many will say to me at that day : 
Lord, Lord ! have we not prophesied in thy name, have we 
not cast out devils in thy name, have we not in thy name 
done many wonderful deeds ? Then will I profess unto 
them : I never knew you, depart from me aU ye workers of 
iniquity." 

As regards its other relation, viz., that to the Truth, it 
is especially important to remark that the Dogma — the 
Theoretical — was already matured within the Eoman World, 
while we find the development of the State from that principle, 
a much later growth. The Eathers of the Church and the 
Councils constituted the dogma ; but a chief element in this 
constitution was supplied by the previous development of 
'philosophy. Let us examine more closely how the philoso- 
phy of the time stood related to religion. It has already 
been remarked that the Roman inwardness and subjectivity, 



342 PAET HI. THE KOMAK WORLD. 

which presented itself only abstractly, as soulless per- 
sonality in the exclusiye position assumed by the Ego, was 
refined by the philosophy of Stoicism and Scepticism to the 
form of IJniversality. The ground of Thought was thereby 
reached, and Grod was known in Thought as the One Infinite. 
The Universal stands here only as an unimportant predicate — 
not itself a Subject, but requiring a concrete particular appli- 
cation to make it such. But the One and Universal, the 
Illimitable conceived by fancy, is essentially Oriental ; for 
measureless conceptions, carrying all limited existence beyond 
iCs proper bounds, are indigenous to the East. Presented in 
the domain of Thought itself, the Oriental One is the invisible 
and non-sensuous Grod of the Israelitish people, but whom 
they also make an object of conception as a person. This 
principle became World-Historical with Christianity. — In the 
Eoman World, the union of the East and West had taken 
place in the first instance by means of conquest : it took 
place now inwardly, psychologically, also;— the Spirit of the 
East spreading over the "West. The worship of Isis and 
that of Mithra had been extended through the whole Eoman 
World ; Spirit, lost in the outward and in limited aims, 
yearned after an Infinite. But the West desired a deeper, 
purely inward Universality— an Infinite possessed at the 
same time of positive qualities. Again, it was in Egypt — in 
Alexandria, viz., the centre of communication between the 
East and the West — that the problem of the age was pro- 
posed for Thought ; and the solution now found was — Spirit. 
There the two principles came into scientific contact, and 
were scientifically worked out. It is especially remarkable 
to observe there, learned Jews such as Philo, connecting ab- 
stract forms of the concrete, which they derived from Plato 
and Aristotle, with their conception of the Infinite, and re- 
cognizing God according to the more concrete idea of Spirit, 
under the definition of the Aoyoq. So, also, did the pro- 
found thinkers of Alexandria comprehend the unity of the 
Platonic and Aristotelian Philosophy ; and their speculative 
thinking attained those abstract ideas which are likewise 
the fundamental purport of the Christian religion. The 
application, by way of postulate, to the pagan religion, of 
ideas recognized as true, was a direction which philosophy 
had already taken among the heathen. Plato had altogether 



SECT. III. ROME TJNDEE THE EMPEEOBS — CHEISTIANITY. 343 

repudiated the current mythologj, and, with his followers, 
was accused of Atheism. The Alexandrians, on the con- 
trary, endeavoured to demonstrate a speculative tryith in 
the Grreek conceptions of the gods : and the Emperor Ju 
lian the Apostate resumed the attempt, asserting that the 
pagan ceremonials had a strict connection with rationality. 
The heathen felt, as it were, obliged to give to their divini- 
ties the semblance of something higher than sensuous con- 
ceptions ; they therefore attempted to spiritualize them. 
Thus much is also certain, that the Greek religion contains ;*^ 

a degree of Eeason ; for the substance of Spirit is Eeason, 
and its product must be something Eational. It makes a 
difference, however, whether Eeason is explicitly developed 
in Eeligion, or merely adumbrated by it, as constituting its 
hidden basis. And while the Grreeks thus spiritualized 
their sensuous divinities, the Christians also, on their side, 
sought for a profounder sense in the historical part of their 
religion. Just as Philo found a deeper import shadowed 
forth in the Mosaic record, and idealized what he considered 
the bare shell of the narrative, so also did the Christians 
treat their records —partly with a polemic view, but still 
more largely from a free and spontaneous interest in the 
process. But the instrumentality of philosophy in introduc- 
ing these dogmas into the Christian Eeligion, is no suffi- 
cient ground for asserting that they were foreign to Chris- 
tianity and had nothing to do with it. It is a matter of 
perfect indifference where a thing originated ; the only 
question is : " Is it true in and for itself?" Many think 
that by pronouncing a doctrine to be JN'eo-Platonic, they 
have ipso facto banished it from Christianity. Whether a 
Christian doctrine stands exactly thus or thus in the Bible, 
— the point to which the exegetical scholars of modern 
times devote all their attention — is not the only question. 
The Letter kills, the Spirit makes alive : this they say them- 
selves, yet pervert the sentiment by taking the Understand' 
ing for the Spirit. It was the Church that recognized and 
established the doctrines in question — i. e. the Spirit of the 
Church ; and it is itself an Article of Doctrine : " I believe 
in a Holy Church;"* as Christ himself also said: "The 
Spirit will guide you into all truth." In the Nicene Coun- 

* In the Lutheran ritual, " a holy Catholic Church " is substituted foe 
" the Holy Catholic Church," in the Belief. — Tb. 



344 PART III. THE EOMAIf WORLD. 

cil (a.d. 325), was ultimately established a fixed confession 
of faith, to which we still adhere : this confession had not, 
indeed, a speculativeybrw?, but the profoundly speculative is 
most iiitimately inwoven with the manifestation of Christ 
himself. Evenin John(£v (f^PXV ^^ ^ Xoyoc; Kai 6 Xoyog ■fjv Trpo? 
Tov S^tov, Kai Beog r)v b Xoyog) we see the commencement of a 
profounder comprehension. The profoundest thought is 
connected with the personality of Christ — with the historical 
and external ; and it is the very grandeur of the Christian re- 
ligion that, with all this profundity, it is easy of comprehen- 
sion by our consciousness in its outward aspect, while, at the 
same time, it summons us to penetrate deeper. It is thus 
adapted to every grade of culture, and yet satisfies the highest 
requirements. 

Having spoken of the relation of the Cliristian commu- 
nity to the Eoman World on the one side, and to the truth 
contained in its doctrines on the other side, we come to the 
third point — in which both doctrine and the external world 
are concerned — the Church. The Christian community is 
the Kingdom of Christ — its influencing present Spirit being 
Christ : for this kingdom has an actual existence, not a 
merely future one. This spiritual actuality has, therefore, 
also a phenomenal existence ; and that, not only as contrasted 
with heathenism, but with secular existence generally. For 
the Church, as presenting this outward existence, is not 
merely a religion as opposed to another religion, but is at 
the same time a particular form of secular existence, occu- 
pying a place side by side with other secular existence. The 
religious existence of the Church is governed by Christ ; the 
secular side of its government is left to the free choice of 
the members themselves. Into this kingdom of God an 
organization must be introduced. In the first instance, all 
the members know themselves filled with the Spirit ; the 
whole community perceives the truth and gives expression 
to it; yet, together with this common participation of 
spiritual influence, arises the necessity of a presidency of 
guidance and teaching — a body distinct from the community 
at large. Those are chosen as presidents who are distin- 
guished for talents, character, fervour of piety, a holy life, 
learning, and culture generally. The presidents, — those who 
have a superior acquaintance with that substantial Life of 
which all are partakers, and who are instructors in that Life — 



SECT. Til. EOME UNDEB THE EMPEEORS — CHEISTIANITY. 345 

those who establish what is truth, and those who dispense its 
enjoyment, — are distinguished from the communitj at large, 
as persons endowed with knowledge and governing power are 
from the governed. To the intelligent presiding body, the 
Spirit comes in a fully revealed and explicit form; in the mass 
of the community that Spirit is only implicit. While, there- 
fore, in the presiding body, the Spirit exists as self-appre- 
ciating and self-cognizant, it becomes an authority in spi- 
ritual as well as in secular matters— an authority for the 
truth and for the relation of each individual to the truth, 
determining how he should conduct himself so as to act in 
accordance with the Truth. This distinction occasions the 
rise of an Ecclesiastical Kingdom in the Kingdom of Grod. 
Such a distinction is inevitable ; but the existence of an autho- 
ritative government for the Spiritual, when closely examined, 
shews that human subjectivity in its proper form has not yet 
developed itself. In the heart, indeed, the evil will is sur- 
rendered, but the will, as human, is not yet interpenetrated 
by the Deity ; the human will is emancipated only ab- 
stractly—not in its concrete reality — for the whole sequel of 
History is occupied with the realization of this concrete 
Freedom. Up to this point, finite Freedom has been only 
annulled, to make way for infinite Freedom. The latter has 
not yet penetrated secular existence with its rays. Subjective 
Freedom has not yet attained validity as such : Insight [spe- 
culative conviction] does not yet rest on a basis of its own, 
but is content to inhere in the spirit of an extrinsic authority. 
That Spiritual [geistig] kingdom has, therefore, assumed the 
shape of an Ecclesiastical [geistlich] one, as the relation of 
the substantial being and essence of Spirit to human Free- 
dom. Besides the interior organization already mentioned, 
we find the Christian community assuming also a definite 
external position, and becoming the possessor of property 
of its own. As property belonging to the spiritual world, 
it is presumed to enjoy special protection ; and the immediate 
inference from this is, that the Church has no dues to pay to 
the state, and that ecclesiastical persons are not amenable to 
the jurisdiction of the secular courts. This entails the govern- 
ment by the Church itself of ecclesiastical property and 
ecclesiastical persons. Thus there originates with the Church 
the contrasted spectacle of a body consisting only of private 



846 PAET III. THE EOMAN WOELD. 

persons and the power of the Emperor on the secular side ; — 
on the other side, the perfect democracy of the spiritual com- 
munity, choosing its own president. Priestly consecration, 
however, soon changes this democracy into aristocracy ; — 
though the farther development of the Church does not 
belong to the period now under consideration, but must be 
referred to the world of a later date. 

It was then through the Christian Eeligion that the Abso- 
lute Idea of Grod, in its true conception, attained conscious- 
ness. Here Man, too, finds himself comprehended in his true 
nature, given in the specific conception of " the Son." 
Man, finite when regarded for himself is yet at the same 
time the Image of God and a fountain of infinity in 
Tiimself, He is the object of his ow^n existence — has in 
himself an infinite value, an eternal destiny. Conse- 
quently he has his true home in a super-sensuous world— an 
infinite subjectivity, gained only by a rupture with mere 
Natural existence and volition, and by his labour to break 
their power within him. This is religious self-conscious- 
ness. But in order to enter the sphere and display the active 
vitality of that religious life, humanity must become capable 
of it. This capability is the Ivva^iQ for that kvi^ytia. "What 
therefore remains to be considered is, those conditions of 
humanity which are the necessary corollary to the con- 
sideration that Man is Absolute Self- consciousness — his 
Spiritual nature being the starting-point and presupposition. 
These conditions are themselves not yet of a concrete order, 
but simply the first abstract principles, which are won by 
the instrumentality of the Christian Eeligion for the secular 
State. First, under Christianity Slavery is impossible ; for 
man as man — in the abstract essence of his nature — is con- 
templated in God ; each unit of mankind is an object of the 
grace of God and of the Divine purpose : " God will have 
all men to be saved." Utterly excluding all speciality, 
therefore, man, in and for himself —in his simple quality of 
man — has infinite value ; and this infinite value abolishes, ipso 
facto, all particularity attaching to birth or country. The 
other, the second principle, regards the subjectivity of man 
in its bearing on the Fortuitous — on Chance. Humanity has 
this sphere of free Spirituality in and for itself, and every- 
thing else must proceed from it. The place appropriated to 



SECT. III. EOME TTHDER THE EMPEEOBS — CHEISTIANITT. 347 

the abode and presence of the Divine Spirit — the sphere in 
question — is Spiritual Subjectivity, and is constituted the 
place to which all contingency is amenable. It follows 
thence, that what we observed among the Greeks as a form 
of Customary Morality, cannot maintain its position in the 
Christian world. Por tliat morality is spontaneous unre- 
flected "Wont ; while the Christian principle is independent^ 
subjectivity — the soil on which grows the True. riTsmth 
nnreflected morality cannot continue to hold its ground 
against the principle of Subjective Preedom. Greek Free- 
dom was that of Hap and " Genius ;" it was still conditioned 
by Slaves and Oracles ; but now the principle of absolute 
Preedom in God makes its appearance. Man now no longer 
sustains the relation of Dependence, but of Love — in the / 
consciousness that he is a partaker in the Divine existence. 
In regard to particular aims [such as the Greeks referred to 
oracular decision], man now forms his ovni determinations 
and recognizes himself as plenipotentiary in regard to all 
finite existence. All that is special retreats into the back- 
ground before that Spiritual sphere of subjectivity, which 
takes a secondary position only in presence of the Divine 
Spirit. The superstition of oracles and auspices is thereby 
entirely abrogated : Man is recognized as the absolute 
authority in crises of decision. 

It is the two principles just treated of, that now attach 
to Spirit in this its self-contained phase. The inner shrine 
of man is designed, on the one hand, to train the citizen of 
the religious life to bring himself into harmony with the 
Spirit of God ; on the other hand, this is the jpoint du 
depart for determining secular relations, and its condition is 
the theme of Christian History. The c£ange which piety 
effects must not remain concealed in the recesses of the 
heart, but must become an actual, present world, complying 
with the conditions prescribed by that Absolute Spirit. 
Piety of heart does not, per se, involve the submission 
of the subjective will, in its external relations, to that 
piety. On the contrary we see all passions increasingly 
rampant in the sphere of reality, because that sphere is 
looked down upon with contempt, from the lofty position 
attained by the world of mind, as one destitute of all claim 
and value. The problem to be solved is therefore the im- 



348 PART III. THE EOMAlf WORLD. 

buing of the sphere of [ordinary] unreflected Spiritual 
existence, with the Idea of Spirit. A general observation 
here suggests itself. From time immemorial it has been 
customary to assume an opposition between Eeason and 
Beligion, as also between Beligion and the World; but on 
investigation this turns out to be only a distinction. Eeason 
in general is the Positive Existence [Wesen] of Spirit, 
divine as well as human. The distinction between Eeligion 
and the World is only this — that Eeligion as such, is Eeason 
in the soul and heart — that it is a temple in which Truth 
and Freedom in Grod are presented to the conceptive faculty : 
the State, on the other hand, regulated by the selfsame 
Eeason, is a temple of Human Freedom concerned with the 
perception and volition of a reality, whose purport may itself 
be called divine. Thus Freedom in the State is preserved and 
established by Eeligion, since moral rectitude in the State 
is only the carrying out of that which constitutes the funda- 
mental principle of Eeligion. The process displayed in 
History is only the manifestation of Eeligion as Human 
Eeason — the production of the religious principle which 
dwells in the heart of man, under the form of Secular Free- 
dom. Thus the discord between the inner life of the heart 
and the actual world is removed. To realize this is, how- 
ever, the vocation of another people — or other peoples — viz., 
the German. In ancient Eome itself, Christianity cannot 
find a ground on which it may become actual, and develop an 
empire. 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE BYZANTINE EMPIRE. 

* 

"With Constantine the Great the Christian religion 
ascended the throne of the empire. He was followed by a 
succession of Christian Emperors, interrupted only by Julian, 
— who however, could do but little for the prostrate ancient 
faith. The Eoman Empire embraced the whole civilized 
earth, from the Western Ocean to the Tigris, — from the 
interior of Africa, to the Danube (Pannonia, Dacia.) Chris* 



SECT. III. UNDEE THE EMPERORS — BYZANTINE PERIOD. 349 

tisinity soon spread through the length and breadth of this 
enormous realm. Eome had long ceased to be the exclusive 
residence of the Emperors. Many of Constantino's pre- 
decessors had resided in Milan or other places ; and he him- 
self established a second court in the ancient Byzantium, 
which received the name of Constantinople. From the first 
its population consisted chiefly of Christians, and Constan- 
tine lavished every appliance to render this new abode equal 
in splendour to the old. The empire still remained in its 
integrity till Theodosius the Grreat made permanent a separa- 
tion that had been only occasional, and divided it between 
his two sons. The reign of Theodosius displayed the last 
faint gKmmer of that splendour which had glorified the 
Boman world. Under Mm the pagan temples were shut, 
the sacrifices and ceremonies abolished, and paganism itself 
forbidden : gradually however it entirely vanished of itself. 
The heathen orators of the time cannot sufficiently express 
their wonder and astonishment at the monstrous contrast 
between the days of their forefathers and their own. 
"Our Temples have become Tombs. The places which 
were formerly adorned with the holy statues of the Grods 
are now covered with sacred bones (relics of the Martyrs) ; 
men who have sufiered a shameful death for their crimes, 
whose bodies are covered with stripes, and whose heads have 
been embalmed, are the object of veneration." All that 
was contemned is exalted ; all that was formerly revered, is 
trodden in the dust. The last of the pagans express this 
enormous contrast with profound lamentation. 

The Roman Empire was divided between the two sons of 
Theodosius. The elder, Arcadius, received the Eastern 
Empire : — Ancient Greece, with Thrace, Asia Minor, Syria, 
Egypt ; the younger, Honorius, the "Western : — Italy, 
Africa, Spain, Gaul, Britain. Immediately after the death 
of Theodosius, confusion entered, and the Eoman provinces 
were overwhelmed by alien peoples. Already, under the 
Emperor Yalens, the Visigoths, pressed by the Huns, had 
solicited a domicile on the hither side of the Danube. 
This was granted them, on the condition that they should 
defend the border provinces of the empire. But maltreat- 
ment roused them to revolt. Valens was beaten and fell 
on the field. The later emperors paid court to the leader 



350 PART III. THE ROMAN WORLD. 

of these Goths. Alaric, the bold Gothic Chief, turned his 
arms against Italy. Stilicho, the general and minister of Ho- 
norius, stayed his course a.d. 403, by the battle of PoUentia, 
as at a later date he also routed Eadagaisus, leader of the 
Alans, Suevi, and others. Alaric now attacked Gaul and 
Spain, and on the fall of Stilicho returned to Italy. 
Eome was stormed and plundered by him a.d. 410. After- 
wards Attila advanced on it with the terrible might of the 
Huns, — one of those purely Oriental phenomena, which, 
like a mere storm-torrent, rise to a furious height and bear 
down everything in their course, but in a brief space are 
so completely spent, that nothing is seen of them but the 
traces they have left in the ruins which they have occasioned. 
Attila pressed into Gaul, where, a.d. 451, a vigorous resis- 
tance was offered him by ^tius, near Chalons on the Marne. 
Victory remained doubtful. Attila subsequently marched 
upon Italy and died in the year 453. Soon afterwards how- 
ever Eome was taken and plundered by the Vandals under 
Genseric. Finally, the dignity of the Western Emperors 
became a farce, and their empty title was abolished bj 
Odoacer, King of the Heruli. 

The Eastern Empire long survived, and in the West a 
new Christian population was formed from the invading bar- 
barian hordes. Christianity had at first kept aloof from the 
state, and the development which it experienced related to 
doctrine, internal organization, discipline, &c. But now it 
had become dominant : it was now a political power, a poli- 
tical motive. We now see Christianity under two form.s : 
on the one side barbarian nations whose culture was yet to 
begin, who have to acquire the very rudiments of science, 
law, and polity ; on the other side civilized peoples in pos- 
session of Greek science and a highly refined Oriental 
culture. Municipal legislation among them was complete 
— having reached the highest perfection through the labours 
of the great Eoman jurisconsults ; so that the corpus juris 
compiled at the instance of the Emperor Justinian, still 
excites the admiration of the world. Here the Christian 
religion is placed in the midst of a developed civilization, 
which did not proceed from it. There, on the contrary, the 
process of culture has its very first step still to take, and 
that within the sphere of Christianity. 



SECT. III. UNDER THE EMPERORS — BTZAKTINE PERIOD. 351 

These two empires, therefore, present a most remarkable 
contrast, in which we have before our eyes a grand example 
of the necessity of a people's having its culture developed in 
the spirit of the Christian religion. The history of the highly 
civilized Eastern Empire — where as we might suppose, the 
Spirit of Christianity could be taken up in its truth and 
purity — exhibits to us a millennial series of uninterrupted 
crimes, weaknesses, basenesses and want of principle; a 
most repulsive and consequently a most uninteresting pic- 
ture. It is evident here, how Christianity may be abstract, 
and how as such it is powerless, on account of its very purity 
and intrinsic spirituality. It may even be entirely separated 
from the World, as e. g. in Monasticism — which originated 
in Egypt. It is a common notion and saying, in reference 
to the power of Eeligion, abstractly considered, over the hearts 
of men, that if Christian love were universal, private and 
political life would both be perfect, and the state of mankind 
would be thoroughly righteous and moral. Such representa- 
tions may be a pious wisTit but do not possess truth ; for 
religion is something internal, having to do with conscience 
alone. To it all the passions and desires are opposed, and 
in order that heart, will, intelligence may become true, they 
must be thoroughly educated ; Eight must become Custom — 
Habit ; practical activity must be elevated to rational action ; 
the State must have a rational organization, and then at 
length does the will of individuals become a truly righteous 
one. Light shining in darkness may perhaps give colour, 
but not a picture animated by Spirit. The Byzantine 
Empire is a grand example of how the Christian religion 
may maintain an abstract character among a cultivated peo- 
ple, if the whole organization of the State and of the Laws is 
not reconstructed in harmony with its principle. At Byzan- 
tium Christianity had fallen into the hands of the dregs of 
the population — the lawless mob. Popular licence on the 
one side and courtly baseness on the other side, take refuge 
under the sanction of religion, and degrade the latter to a 
disgusting object. In regard to religion, two interests ob- 
tained prominence : first, the settlement of doctrine ; and 
secondly, the appointment to ecclesiastical offices. The 
settlement of doctrine pertained to the Councils and Church 
^authorities ; but the principle of Christianity is Freedom — 



852 PAET III. THE ROMAN WORLD. 

subjective insight. These matters therefore, were special 
subjects of contention for the populace; violent civil wars 
arose, and every where might be witnessed scenes of murder, 
conflagration and pillage, perpetrated in the cause of Christian 
dogmas. A famous schism e. g. occurred in reference to the 
dogma of the Tpto-aytov. The words read : " Holy, Holy, 
Holy, is the Lord God of Zebaoth." To this, one party, 
in honour of Christ, added — '* who was crucified for us." 
Another party rejected the addition, and sanguinary strug- 
gles ensued. In the contest on the question whether Christ 
were ofxoovanog or bfxoiovaLOQ — that is of tliesameov oi similar 
nature with God — the one letter i cost many thousands their 
lives. Especially notorious are the contentions about 
Images, in which it often happened, that the Emperor 
declared for the images and the Patriarch against, or con- 
versely. Streams of blood flowed as the result. Gregory 
Nazianzen says somewhere : " This city (Constantinople,) 
is full of handicraftsmen and slaves, who are all profound 
theologians, and preach in their workshops and in the streets. 
If you want a man to change a piece of silver, he instructs 
you in what consists the distinction between the Eather 
and the Son : if you ask the price of a loaf of bread, you 
receive for answer, — that the Son is inferior to the Eather ; 
and if you ask, whether the bread is ready, the rejoinder is 
that the genesis of the Son was from Nothing." The Idea of 
Spirit contained in this doctrine was thus treated in an utterly 
unspiritual manner. The appointment to the Patriarchate 
at Constantinople, Autioch and Alexandria, and the jealousy 
and ambition of the Patriarchs likewise occasioned many 
intestine struggles. To all these religious contentions was 
added the interest in the gladiators and their combats, and in 
the parties of the blue and green colour, which likewise 
occasioned the bloodiest encounters ; a sign of the most 
fearful degradation, as proving that all feeling for what is 
serious and elevated is lost, and that the delirium of religious 
passion is quite consistent with an appetite for gross and 
barbarous spectacles. 

The chief points in the Christian religion were at last, 
by degrees, established by the Councils. The Christians of 
the Byzantine Empire remained sunk in the dream of 
superstition — persisting in blind obedience to the Patriarchs 



SECT. III. UNDEE THE EMPEEOHS— BYZANTINE PEEIOD. 353 

and the priesthood. Image-Worship, to which we alluded 
above, occasioned the most violent struggles and storms. 
The brave Emperor Leo the Isaurian in particular, persecuted 
images with the greatest obstinacy, and in the year 754, 
Image-Worship was declared by a Council to be an invention 
of the devil. Nevertheless, in the year 787 the Empress 
Irene had it restored under the authority of a Nicene 
Council, and the Empress Theodora definitively established it 
— proceeding against its enemies with energetic rigour. 
The iconoclastic Patriarch received two hundred blows, the 
bishops trembled, the monks exulted, and the memory of 
this orthodox proceeding was celebrated by an annual ec- 
clesiastical festival. The West, on the contrary, repudiated 
Image -Worship as late as the year 794, in the Council held 
at Prankfort ; and, though retaining the images, blamed 
most severely the superstition of the G-reeks. Not till the 
later Middle Ages did Image-Worship meet with universal 
adoption as the result of quiet and slow advances. 

The Byzantine Empire was thus distracted by passions of 
all kinds within, and pressed by the barbarians— to whom 
the Emperors could offer but feeble resistance — without. The 
realm was in a condition of perpetual insecurity. Its general 
aspect presents a disgusting picture of imbecility ; wretched, 
nay, insane passions, stifle the growth of all that is noble in 
thoughts, deeds, and persons. Eebellion on the part of 
generals, depositions of the Emperors by their means or 
through the intrigues of the courtiers, assassination or 
poisoning of the Emperors by their own wives and sons, 
women surrendering themselves to lusts and abominations 
of all kinds — such are the scenes which History here brings 
before us ; till at last — about the middle of the 15th century 
(a.d. 1453) — the rotten edifice of the Eastern Empire crum- 
bled in pieces before the might of the vigorous Turks. 



2 A 



354 PART IV. THE GERMAN WOBLD. 

PAET IV. 
THE GERMAN WORLD. 

The German Spirit is the Spirit of the new "Worid. Its 
aim is the realization of absolute Truth as the unlimited 
self-determination of Freedom — tliat Freedom which has 
its own absolute form itself as its purport.* The destiny of 
the G-erman peoples is, to be the bearers of the Christian 
principle. The principle of Spiritual Freedom— of Eecon- 
ciliation [of the Objective and Subjective], was introduced into 
the still simple, unformed minds of those peoples; and the part 
assigned them in the service of the "World-Spirit was that of 
not merely possessing the Idea of Freedom as the substratum 
of their religious conceptions, but of producing it in free and 
spontaneous developments from their subjective self-con- 
sciousness. 

In entering on the task of dividing the German World 
into its natural periods, we must remark that we have not, 
as was the case in treating of the Greeks and Romans, a 
double external relation — backwards to an earlier World- 
Historical people, and forwards to a later one — to guide us. 
History shews that the process of development among the 
^ peoples now under consideration, was an altogether different 
one. The Greeks and Eomans had reached maturity within, 
ere they directed their energies outwards. The Germans, 
on the contrary, began with self- diffusion— deluging the 
world, and overpowering in their course the inwardly rotten, 
hollow political fabrics of the civilized nations. Only then 
did their development begin, kindled by a foreign culture, 
a foreign religion, polity and legislation. The process of 
culture they underwent consisted in taking up foreign 

• That is : The Supreme Law of the Universe is recognized as 
identical with the dictates of Conscience — becomes a " law of liberty." 
Morality — that authority which has the incontestable right to determine 
men's actions, which therefore is the only absolutely free and unlimited 
power — is no longer a compulsory enactment, but the free choice of human 
beings. The good man would make Law for himself if be found none made 
for him.— Tr. 



PART IV. THE GERMAN WOELD. 355 

elements and reductively amalgamating them with their 
own national life. Thus their history presents an intro- 
version — the attraction of alien forms of life and the 
bringing these to bear upon their own. In the Crusades, 
indeed, and in the discovery of America, the Western "World 
directed its energies outwards. But it was not thus 
brought in contact with a World-Historical people that had 
preceded it ; it did not dispossess a principle that had pre- 
viously governed the world. The relation to an extraneous 
principle here only accompanies, [does not constitute] the his- 
tory — does not bring with it essential changes in the nature 
of those conditions which characterize the peoples in question, 
but rather wears the aspect of internal evolution.* — The re- 
lation to other countries and periods is thus entirely different 
from that sustained by the Grreeks and Eomans. JFor the 
Christian world is the world of completion ; the grand prin- 
ciple of being is realized, consequently the end of days is fully 
come. The Idea can discover in Christianity no point in 
the aspirations of Spirit that is not satisfied. Por its indi- 
vidual members, the Church is, it is true, a preparation for 
an eternal state as something future ; since the units who 
compose it, in their isolated and several capacity, occupy a 
position of particularity : but the Church has also the Spirit 
of God actually present in it, it forgives the sinner and is a 
present kingdom of heaven. Thus the Christian World has 
no absolute existence outside its sphere, but only a relative 
one which is already implicitly vanquished, and in respect 
to which its only concern is to make it apparent that this 
conquest has taken place. Hence it follows that an external 
reference ceases to be the characteristic element determining 
the epochs of the modern world. We have therefore to look 
for another principle of division. 

The German World took up the Eoman culture and reli- 
gion in their completed form. There was indeed a German 
and Northern religion, but it had by no means taken deep 
root in the soul ; Tacitus therefore calls the Germans : 
" Securi adversus Deos." The Christian Eeligion which 
they adopted, had received from Councils and ^Fathers of 

* The influence of the Crusades and of the discoveiy of America was 
Biraply reflex. No other phase of humanity was thereby merged la 
Christendom. — Tr. 

2 A 2 



856' PAET IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD. 

the Church, who possessed the whole ci Iture, and in par- 
ticular, the philosophy of the Greek and Eoman "World, a 
perfected dogmatic system ; the Church, too, had a com- 
pletely developed hierarchy. To the native tongue of the 
Germans, the Church likewise opposed one perfectly de- 
veloped — the Latin. In art and philosophy a similar alien 
influence predominated. What of Alexandrian and of formal 
Aristotelian philosophy was still preserved in the writings 
of Boethius and elsewhere, became the fixed basis of specular 
tive thought in the West for many centuries. The same 
principle holds in regard to the form of the secular sove- 
reignty. Gothic and other chiefs gave themselves the name 
of Roman Patricians, and at a later date the Eoman Empire 
was restored. Thus the German world appears, superficially, 
to be only a continuation of the E-oman. But there lived 
in it an entirely new Spirit, through which the World was to 
be regenerated — the free Spirit, viz. which reposes on itself 
— the absolute self-determination [Eigensinn] of subjec- 
tivity. To this self-involved subjectivity, the corresponding 
objectivity [Inhalt] stands opposed as absolutely alien. 
The distinction and antithesis which is evolved from these 
principles, is that of Church and State. On the one side, 
the Church develops itself, as the embodiment of absolute 
Truth ; for it is the consciousness of this truth, and at the 
same time the agency for rendering the Individual harmo- 
nious with it. On the other side stands secular conscious- 
ness, which, with its aims, occupies the world of Limitation 
— the State, based on Heart [emotional and thence social 
affectio]is] or mutual confidence and subjectivity generally. 
European history is the exhibition of the growth of each of 
these principles severally, in Church and State ; then of an 
antithesis on the part of both — not only of the one to the 
other, but appearing within the sphere of each of these 
bodies themselves (since each of them is itself a totality) ; 
lastly, of the harmonizing of the antithesis. 

The three periods of this world will have to be treated 
accordingly. 

The Jirst begins with the appearance of the German 
Nations in the Eoman Empire — the incipient development 
of these peoples, converts to Christianity, and now estab- 
lished in the possession of the West. Theii barbarous 



PART IV. THE GEEMAN WORLD. 357 

and simple character prevents this initial period from pos- 
sessing any great interest. The Christian world then pre- 
sents itself as " Christendom" — one mass, in which the 
Spiritual and the Secular form only different aspects. This 
epoch extends to Charlemagne, 

The second period develops the two sides of the antithesis 
to a logically consequential independence and opposition — 
the Church for itself as a Theocracy y and the State for itself 
as a Feudal Monarchy. Charlemagne had formed an alliance 
with the Holy See against the Lombards and the factions of 
the nobles in E,ome. A union thus arose between the 
spiritual and the secular power, and a kingdom of heaven 
on earth promised to follow in the wake of this conciliation. 
But just at this time, instead of a spiritual kingdom of 
heaven, the inwardness of the Christian principle wears 
the appearance of being altogether directed outwards and 
leaving its proper sphere. Christian Freedom is perverted to 
its very opposite, both in a religious and secular respect ; 
on the one hand to the severest bondage, on the other hand 
to the most immoral excess — a barbarous intensity of every 
passion. In this period two aspects of society are to be 
especially noticed : the first is the formation of states — su- 
perior and inferior suzerainties exhibiting a regulated sub- 
ordination, so that every relation becomes a firmly-fixed 
private right, excluding a sense of universality. This regu- 
lated subordination appears in the Feudal System. The 
second aspect presents the antithesis of Church and State. 
This antithesis exists solely because the Church, to whose 
management the Spiritual was committed, itself sinks down 
into every kind of worldliness— a worldliness which appears 
only the more detestable, because all passions assume the 
sanction of religion. 

The time of Charles the Fifth's reign — i. e., the first half 
of the sixteenth century — forms the end of the second, and 
likewise the beginning of the third period. Secularity 
appears now as gaining a consciousness of its intrinsic worth 
— becomes aware of its having a value of its own in the 
morality, rectitude, probity and activity of man. The con- 
sciousness of independent validity is aroused through the 
restoration of Christian freedom. The Christian principle 
has now passed through the terrible discipline of culture. 



358 PAET IV. THE GERMAN WO ELD. 

and it first attains truth and reality through the Reforma- 
tion. This third period of the German World extends 
from the Eeformation to our own times. The principle of 
Free Spirit is here made the banner of the World, and from 
this principle are evolved the universal axioms of Eeason. 
Formal Thought — the Understanding — had been already 
developed ; but Thought received its true material first with 
the Eeformation, through the reviviscent concrete con- 
sciousness of Free Spirit. From that epoch Thought began 
to gain a culture properly its own : principles were derived 
from it which were to be the norm for the constitution of 
the State. Political life was now to be consciously regulated 
by Eeason. Customary morality, traditional usage lost its 
validity ; the various claims insisted upon, must prove their 
legitimacy as based on rational principles. Xot till this era 
is the Freedom of Spirit realized. 

~^ We may distinguish these periods as Kingdoms of the 
Father, the Son, and the Spirit.* The Kingdom of the 
Father is the consolidated, undistinguished mass, presenting 
a self-repeating cycle, mere change — like that sovereignty of 
Chronos engulfing his offspring. The Kingdom of the Son 
is the manifestation of God merely in a relation to secular 
existence, — shining upon it as upon an alien object. The 
Kingdom of the Spirit is the harmonizing of the antithesis. 
These epochs may be also compared with the earlier 
empires. In the German aeon, as the realm of Totality, 
we see the distinct repetition of the earlier epochs. Charle- 
magne's time may be compared with the Persian Empire ; 
it is the period of substantial unity — this unity having its 



* The conception of a mystical regnum Patris, regnvm Filii and reg^ 
num Spiritus Sancti is perfectly familiar to metaphysical theolog-ians. 
The first represents the period in which Deity is not yet manifested — re- 
mains self-involved. The second is that of manifestation in an individual 
heing-, standing apart from mankind generally — " the Son.** The third is 
that in which this barrier is broken down, and an intimate mystical com- 
munion ensues between God in Christ and the Regenerated, when God is 
" all in all." This remark may serve to prevent misconception as to the 
tone of the remainder of the paragraph. The mention of the Greek myth 
will appear pertinent in the view of those who admit what seems a very 
reasonable explanation of it — viz., as an adumbration of the self-involved 
character of the pre-historical period. — Tr. 



PAET IT. THE GERMAIT WOELD. 359 

foundation in the inner man, the Heart, and both in the 
Spiritual and the Secular still abiding in its simplicity. 

To the Greek world and its merely ideal unity, the time 
preceding Charles V. answers ; where real unity no longer 
exists, because all phases of particularity have become fixed 
in privileges and peculiar rights. As in the interior of the 
realms themselves, the different estates of the realm, with 
their several claims, are isolated, so do the various states 
in their foreign aspects occupy a merely external relation to 
each other. A diplomatic policy arises, which in the interest 
of a European balance of power, unites them with and 
against each other. It is the time in which the world 
becomes clear and manifest to itself (Discovery of America). 
So too does consciousness gain clearness in the supersensuous 
world and respecting it. Substantial objective religion brings 
itself to sensuous clearness in the sensuous element (Chris- 
tian Art in the age of Pope Leo), and also becomes clear to 
itself in the element of inmost truth. We may compare 
this time with that of Pericles. The introversion of Spirit 
begins (Socrates — Luther), though Pericles is wanting in 
this epoch. Charles Y. possesses enormous possibilities in 
point of outward appliances, and appears absolute in his 
power ; but the inner spirit of Pericles, and therefore the 
absolute means of establishing a free sovereignty, is not in 
him. This is the epoch when Spirit becomes clear to itself in 
separations occurring in the realm of reality ; now the distinct 
elements of the German world manifest their essential nature. 

The third epoch maybe compared with the Eoman World. 
The unity of a universal principle is here quite as decidedly 
present, yet not as the unity of abstract universal sovereignty, 
but as the Hegemony of self-cognizant Thought. The au- 
thority of Rational Aim is acknowledged, and privileges and 
particularities melt away before the common object of the 
State. Peoples will the Eight in and for itself ; regard is not 
had exclusively to particular conventions between nations, 
but principles enter into the considerations with which diplo- 
macy is occupied. As little can Eeligion maintain itself apart 
from Thought, but either advances to the comprehension of 
the Idea, or, compelled by thought itself, becomes intensive 
belief^or lastly, from despair of finding itself at home in 
thought, flees back from it in pious horror, and becomes 
Superstition. 



PART IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD 

SECTION I. 
THE ELEMENTS OF THE CHRISTIAN GERMAN WORLD. 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE BARBARIAN MIGRATIONS. 

Eespecting this first period, we have on the whole little 
to say, for it affords us comparatively slight materials for re- 
flection. "We will not follow the Grermans back into their 
forests, nor investigate the origin of their migrations. Those 
forests of theirs have always passed for the abodes of free 
peoples, and Tacitus sketched his celebrated picture of Ger- 
many with a certain love and longing — contrasting it 
with the corruption and artificiality of that world to whicb he 
himself belonged. But we must not on this account regard 
such a state of barbarism as an exalted one, or fall into 
some such error as Eousseau's, who represents the condi- 
tion of the American savages as one in which man is in pos- 
session of true freedom. Certainly there is an immense 
amount of misfortune and sorrow of which the savage knows 
nothing ; but this is a merely negative advantage, while 
freedom is essentially positive. It is only the blessings con- 
ferred by affirmative freedom that are regarded as such in 
the highest grade of consciousness. 

Our first acquaintance with the G-ermans finds each indi- 
vidual enjoying an independent freedom ; and yet there is a 
certain community of feeling and interest, though not yet 
matured to a political condition. Next we see them inun- 
dating the Eoman empire. It was partly the fertility of its 
domains, partly the necessity of seeking other habitations, 
that furnished the inciting cause. In spite of the wars in 
which they engage with the Eomans, individuals, and even 
entire clans, enter their service as soldiers. Even so early 
as the battle of Pharsalia we find German cavalry united 
with the Eoman forces of Caesar. In military service and 
intercourse with civilized peoples, they became acquainted 
with their advantages — advantages tending to the enjoyment 
and convenience of life, but also, and principally, those of 



SECT. r. ELEMENTS OT THE CHRISTIAN GERMAN WORLD. 361 

mental cultivation. In the later emigrations, many nations 
— some entirely, others partially — remained behind in their 
original abodes. 

Accordingly, a distinction must be made between the 
G-erman nations who remained in their ancient habitations 
and those who spread themselves over the Soman empire, 
and mingled with the conquered peoples. Since in their 
migratoiy expeditions the Grermans attached themselves 
to their leaders of their own free choice, we find a pecu- 
liar duplicate condition of the great Teutonic families 
(Eastern and "Western Goths; G-oths in all parts of the 
world and in their original country; Scandinavians and 
Normans in Norway, but also appearing as knightly adven- 
turers in the wide world). However different might be the 
fates of these peoples, they nevertheless had one aim in 
common — to procure themselves possessions, and to develop 
themselves in the direction of political organization. This 
process of growth is equally characteristic of alL In the 
West — in Spain and Portugal — the Suevi and Vandals are 
the first settlers, but are subdued and dispossessed by the 
Visigoths. A great Visigothic kingdom was established, to 
which Spain, Portugal, and a part of Southern France be- 
longed. The second kingdom is that of the Franks— 2^ name 
which, from the end of the second century, was given in com- 
mon to thelstaevonian races between theEhine and theWeser. 
They established themselves between the Moselle and the 
Scheldt, and under their leader, Clovis, pressed forward into 
G-aul as far as the Loire. He afterwards reduced the Pranks 
on the Lower Ehine, and the Alemanni on the Upper Rhine ; 
his sons subjugated the Thuringians and Burgundians. The 
third kingdom is that of the Gst'^ogotJis in Italy, founded by 
Theodoric, and highly flourishing beneath his rule. The 
learned Romans Cassiodorus and, Boethius filled the highest 
oflices of state under Theodoric. But this Ostrogothic king- 
dom did not last long ; it was destroyed by the Byzantines 
under Belisarius and Narses. In the second half (568) of 
the sixth century, the Lomhards invaded Italy and ruled for 
two centuries, till this kingdom also was subjected to the 
Prank sceptre by Charlemagne. At a later date, the Nor- 
mans also established themselves in Lower Italy. Our at- 
tention is next claimed by the Burgundians, who were sub- 



362 PAET IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD. 

jugated by the Franks, and whose kingdom forms a kind of 
partition wall between France and Grermany. The Angles 
and Saxons entered Britain and reduced it under their sway. 
Subsequently, the Normans make their appearance here 
also. 

These countries — previously a part of the Eoman empire 
— thus experienced the fate of subjugation by the Barba- 
rians. In the first instance, a great contrast presented itself 
between the already civilized inhabitants of those countries 
and the victors ; but this contrast terminated in the hybrid 
character of the new nations that were now formed. The 
whole mental and moral existence of such states exhibits a 
divided aspect ; in their inmost being we have character- 
istics that point to an alien origin. This distinction strikes 
us even on the surface, in their language, which is an inter- 
mixture of the ancient Eoman — already united with the 
vernacular — and the Grerman. We may class these nations 
together as Romanic — comprehending thereby Italy, Spain, 
Portugal, and France. Contrasted with these stand three 
others, more or less German-s'peaTcing nations, which have 
maintained a consistent tone of uninterrupted fidelity to na- 
tive character— Germany itself, Scandinavia, and England. 
The last was, indeed, incorporated in the Eoman empire, but 
was affected by Eoman culture little more than superficially 
— like Germany itself — and was again Germanized by An- 
gles and Saxons. Germany Proper kept itself pure from 
any admixture : only the southern and western border — on 
the Danube and the Ehine — had been subjugated by the 
Eomans. The portion between the Ehine and the Elbe 
remained thoroughly national. This part of Germany was 
inhabited by several tribes. Besides the Eipuarian Franks 
and those established by Clo\ds in the districts of the Maine, 
four leading tribes— the Alemanni, the Boioarians, the Thu- 
ringians, and the Saxoms — must be mentioned. The Scan- 
dinavians retained in their fatherland a similar purity from 
intermixture ; and also made themselves celebrated by their 
expeditions, under the name of Normans. They extended 
their chivalric enterprises over almost all parts of Europe. 
Part of them went to Eussia, and there became the founders 
of the Eussian Empire ; part settled in Northern France 
and Britain j another established principalities in Lower 



SECT. I. ELEMENTS OF THE CHEISTIAN GERMAN WOELD. 363 

Italy and Sicily. Thus a part of the Scandinavians founded 
states in foreign lands, another maintained its nationality 
by the ancestral hearth. 

"We find, moreover, in the East of Europe, the great 
Sclavonic nation, whose settlements extended west of the 
Elbe to the Danube. The Magyars (Hungarians) settled 
in between them. In Moldavia, Wallachia and northern 
Greece appear the Bulgarians, Servians, and Albanians, 
likewise of Asiatic origin— left behind as broken barbarian 
remains in the shocks and counter-shocks of the advancing 
hordes. These people did, indeed, found kingdoms and sus- 
tain spirited conflicts with the various nations that came 
across their path. Sometimes, as an advanced guard — an 
intermediate nationality — they took part in the strug- 
gle between Christian Europe and unchristian Asia. The 
Poles even liberated beleaguered Vienna from the Turks ; 
and the Sclaves have to some extent been drawn within the 
sphere of Occidental Eeason. Yet this entire body of peoples 
remains excluded from our consideration, because hitherto it 
has not appeared as an independent element in the series of 
phases that B-eason has assumed in the World. "Whether it 
will do so hereafter, is a question that does not concern us 
here ; for in History we have to do with the Past. 

The Grerman Nation was characterised by the sense of 
Natural Totality — an idiosyncrasy which we may call Seart 
[Gremiith].* "Heart" is that undeveloped, indeterminate 
totality of Spirit, in reference to the Will, in which satisfac- 
tion of soul is attained in a correspondingly general and in- 
determinate way. Character is a particular form of will and 
interest asserting itself ; but the quality in question 
[G-emiithlichkeit] has no particular aim — riches, honour, or 
the like ; in fact does not concern itself with any objective 
condition [a " position in the world " in virtue of wealth, dig- 
nity, &c.] but with the entire condition of the soul — a 
general sense of enjoyment. Will in the case of such an 

* The word " Gemlitli" has no exactly corresponding term in English. 
It is used further on synonymously with '* Herz," and the openness to 
various emotions and impressions which it implies, may perhaps be ap- 
proximately rendered by " Heart.'' Yet it is but an awkward substitute. 
— Tr. 



364 "PA-ET IV. THE GEEMAN WORLD. 

idiosyncrasy is exclusively for^nal Will* — its purely subjective 
Preedom exhibits itself as self-will. To the disposition thus 
designated, every particular object of attraction seems impor* 
tant, for " Heart " surrenders itself entirely to each ; but as, 
on the other hand, it is not interested in the quality of such 
aim in the abstract, it does not become exclusively absorbed 
in that aim, so as to pursue it with violent and evil passion 
— does not go the length of abstract vice. In the idiosyn- 
crasy we term " Heart," no such absorption of interest pre- 
sents itself ; it wears, on the whole, the appearance of " well- 
meaning." Character is its direct opposite.f 

This is the abstract principle innate in the German peo- 
ples, and that subjective side which they present to the ob- 
jective in Christianity. " Heart " has no particular object ; 
in Christianity we have the Absolute Ohjecty [i.e. it is con- 
cerned with the entire range of Truth] — all that can engage 



* Formal "Will or Subjective Freedom is inclination or mere casual 
liking-, and is opposed to Substantial or Objective Will — also called Ob- 
jective Freedom — which denotes the principles that form the basis of 
society, and that have been spontaneously adopted by particular nations 
or by mankind generally. The latter as well as the former may lay claim 
to being a manifestation of Human Will. For however rigid the restraints 
which those principles impose on individuals, they are the result of no extra- 
neous compulsion brought to bear on the community at large, and are re- 
cognized as rightfully authoritative even by the individuals whose physical 
comfort or relative affections they most painfully contravene. Unquestion- 
ing homage to unreasonable despotism, and the severe rubrics of religious 
penance, can be traced to no natural necessity or stimulus ab extra. The 
principles in which these originate, may rather be called the settled and 
gupreme determination of the community that recognizes them. The term 
*' Objective Will" seems therefore not unfitly used to describe the psycho- 
logical phenomena in question. The term" Substayitial Will," (as opposed 
to " Formal Will") denoting the same phenomena, needs no defence 
or explanation. The third term, " Objective Freedom," used syno- 
nymously with the two preceding, is justified on the ground of the un- 
limited dominion exercised by such principles as those mentioned above. 
" Deus solus liber." (See remarks to this effect on page 35 of the Intro- 
duction, and elsewhere.) — Tr. 

t An incapacity for conspiracy has been remarked as a characteristic 
feature of the Teutonic portion of the inhabitants of the British Isles, as 
compared with their Celtic countrymen. If such a difference can be sub- 
stantiated, we seem to have an important illustration and confirmation of 
Hegel's view. — Tb. 



SECT. I. ELEMENTS OJF THE CHEISTIAlf GEEMAN TTOELD. 3G5 

and occupy human subjectivity. Now it is the desire of 
satisfaction without further definition or restriction, that is 
involved in " Heart ;" and it is exactly that for which we 
found an appropriate application in the principle of Chris- 
tianity. The Indefinite as Substance, in objectivity, is the 
purely Universal — God ; while the reception of the indivi- 
dual will to a participation in His favour, is the comple- 
mentary element in the Christian concrete Unity. The 
absolutely Universal is that which contains in it all deter 
minations, and in virtue of this is itself indeterminate 
Subject [individual personality] ic^ the absolutely determinate; 
and these two are identical.* This was exhibited above as 
the material content [Inhalt] in Christianity ; here we find 
it subjectively as *' Heart." Subject [Personality] must then 
also gain an objective form, that is, be expanded to an object. 
It is necessary that for the indefinite susceptibility which we 
designate " Heart," the Absolute also should assume the 
form of an Object, in order that man on his part may attain 
a consciousness of his unity with that object. But this re- 
cognition of the Absolute [in Christ] requires the purification 
of man's subjectivity — requires it to become a real, concrete 
self, a sharer in general interests as a denizen of the world 
at large, and that it should act in accordance with large and 
liberal aims, recognize Law, and find satisfaction in it. — Thus 
we find here two principles corresponding the one with the 
other, and recognize the adaptation of the German peoples 
to be, as we stated above, the bearers of the higher principle 
of Spirit. 

We advance then to the consideration of the German 



* Pure Self— pure subjectivity or personality — not only excludes all 
that is manifestly objective, all that is evidently Not-Self, but also ab- 
stracts from any peculiar conditions that may temporarily adhere to it, 
e.g. youth or age, riches or poverty, a present or a future state. Thus 
though it seems, prima facie, a fixed point or atom, it is absolutely 
unlimited. By loss or degradation of bodily and mental faculties, it is 
possible to conceive one's self degraded to a position which it would be 
impossible to distinguish from that which we attribute to the brutes, or 
by increase and improvement of those faculties, indefinitely elevated in the 
scale of being, while yet self — personal identity — is retained. On the 
other hand. Absolute Being in the Christian concrete view, is an Infinite 
Self. The Absolutely Limited is thus shewn to be identical with the 
Absolutely Unlimited. — Tb. 



366 PART IV. THE GERMAN "WORLD. 

principle in its primary phase of existence, i.e. the earliest 
historical condition of the Grerman nations. Their quality 
of " Heart'' is in its first appearance quite abstract, undeve- 
loped and destitute of any particular object ; for substantial 
aims are not involved in " Heart" itself. Where this sus- 
ceptibility stands alone, it appears as a want of character — 
mere inanity. " Heart" as purely abstract, is dulness ; thus 
we see in the original condition of the G-ermans a barbarian 
dulness, mental confusion and vagueness. Of the Religion 
of the Germans we know little. — The Druids belonged to Gaul 
and were extirpated by the Eomans. There was indeed, a 
peculiar northern mythology; but how slight a hold the 
religion of the G-ermans had upon their hearts, has been 
already remarked, and it is also evident from the fact that the 
G-ermans were easily converted to Christianity. The Saxons, 
it is true, offered considerable resistance to Charlemagne ; 
but this was directed, not so much against the religion he 
brought with him, as against oppression itself. Their religion 
had no profundity ; and the same may be said of their ideas of 
law. Murder was not regarded and punished as a crime : it 
was expiated by a pecuniary fine. This indicates a deficiency 
in depth of sentiment — that absence of a power of abstraction 
and discrimination that marks their peculiar temperament 
[Nichtentzweitseyn des Gemiithes] — a temperament which 
leads them to regard it only as an injury to the community 
when one of its members is killed, and nothing further. 
The blood-revenge of the Arabs is based on the feeling that 
the honour of the Family is injured. Among the Germans 
the community had no dominion over the individual, for the 
element of freedom is the first consideration in their union 
in a social relationship. The ancient G-ermans were 
famed for their love of freedom ; the Romans formed a cor- 
rect idea of them in this particular from the first. Freedom 
has been the watchword in Germany down to the most re- 
cent times, and even the league of princes under Frederick 
II. had its origin in the love of liberty. This element of 
freedom, in passing over to a social relationship, can esta- 
blish only popular communities ; so that these communities 
constitute the whole state, and every member of the com- 
munit)', as such, is a free man. Homicide could be expiated 
by a pecuniary mulct, because the individuality of the free 



SECT. I. ELEMENTS OE THE CHEISTIAN GERMAN WOELD. 367 

man was regarded as sacred — permanently and inviolably, — 
whatever lie might have done. The community or its pre- 
siding power, with the assistance of members of the commu- 
nity, delivered judgment in affairs of private right, with a 
view to the protection of person and property. For affairs 
affecting the body politic at large — for wars and similar 
contingencies — the whole community had to be consulted. 
The second point to be observed is, that social nuclei were 
formed by free confederation, and by voluntary attachment 
to military leaders and princes. The connection in this case 
was that of Fidelity ; for Fidelity is the second watch-word 
of the Germans, as Freedom was the first. Individuals at- 
tach themselves with free choice to an individual, and with- 
out external prompting make this relation an inviolable one. 
This we find neither among the Greeks nor the Eomans. 
The relation of Agamemnon and the princes who accompanied 
him was not that of feydal suit and service : it was a free 
association merely for a jparticular purpose — a Hegemony. 
But the German confederations have their being not in a 
relation to a mere external aim or cause, but in a relation to 
the spiritual self — the subjective inmost personality. Heart, 
disposition, the concrete subjectivity in its integrity, which 
does not attach itself to any abstract bearing of an object, 
but regards the whole of it as a condition of attachment — 
making itself dependent on the person and the cause — renders 
this relation a compound of fidelity to a person and obedience 
to a principle. 

The union of the two relations — of individual freedom in 
the community, and of the bond implied in association — is 
the main point in the formation of the State. In this, 
duties and rights are no longer left to arbitrary choice, but 
are determined as fixed relations ;— involving, moreover, the 
condition that the State be the soul of the entire body, and 
remain its sovereign, — that from it should be derived par- 
ticular aims and the authorization both of political acts and 
political agents, — the generic character and interests of the 
community constituting the permanent basis of the whole. 
But here we have the peculiarity of the German states, that 
contrary to the view thus presented, social relations do not 
assume the character of general definitions and laws, but are 
entirely split up into private rights and private obligations. 



368 PAET IV. THE GEEMAN WORLD. 

They perhaps exhibit a social or communal mould or stamp, 
but nothing universal ; the laws are absolutely particular, 
and the Rights are Privileges. . Thus the state was a patch- 
work of private rights, and a rational political life was the 
tardy issue of wearisome struggles and convulsions. 

We have said, that the Germans were predestined to be 
the bearers of the Christian principle, and to carry out the 
Idea as the absolutely Kational aim. In the first instance we 
have only vague volition, in the back ground of which lies 
the True and Infinite. The True is present only as an un- 
solved problem, for their Soul is not yet purified. A long 
process is required to complete this purification so as to 
realize concrete Spirit. Religion comes forward with a chal- 
lenge to the violence of the passions, and rouses them to mad- 
ness. The excess of passions is aggravated by evil conscience, 
and heightened to an insane rage ; which perhaps would not 
have been the case, had that opposition been absent. "We 
behold the terrible spectacle of the most fearful extravagance 
of passion in all the royal houses of that period. Clovis, the 
founder of the Frank Monarchy, is stained with the blackest 
crimes. Barbarous harshness and cruelty characterize all 
the succeeding Merovingians ; the same spectacle is repeated 
in the Thuringian and other royal houses. The Christian 
principle is certainly the problem implicit in their souls ; but 
these are primarily still crude. The Will — potentially true — 
mistakes itself, and separates itself from the true and proper 
aim by particular, limited aims. Tet it is in this struggle 
with itself and contrariety to its bias, that it realizes its wishes ; 
it contends against the object which it really desires, and 
thus accomplishes it ; for im^\\Qit\j, 'potential! y, it is reconciled. 
The Spirit of Grod lives in the Church ; it is the inward im- 
pelling Spirit. But it is in the World that Spirit is to be 
realized — in a material not yet brought into harmony with it. 
Now this material is the Subjective Will, which thus has a 
contradiction in itself. On the religious side, we often ob- 
serve a change of this kind : a man who has all his life been 
fightiug and hewing his way — who with all vehemence of cha- 
racter and passion, has struggled and revelled in secular occu- 
pations — on a sudden repudiates it all, to betake himself to reli- 
gious seclusion. But in the AVorld, secular business cannot be 
thus repudiated ; it demands accomplishment, and ultimately 



SECT I. ELEMENTS OF THE CHEISTIAN GERMAN WORLD. 369 

the discovery is made, that Spirit finds the goal of its struggle 
and its harmonization, in that very sphere which it made the 
object of its resistance, — it finds that secular pursuits are a 
spiritual occupation. 

AVe thus observe, that individuals and peoples regard that 
which is their misfortune, as their greatest happiness, and 
conversely, struggle against their happiness as their greatest 
misery. La verite, en la repoussanty on Venibrasse. Europe 
comes to the truth while, and to the degree in which, she has 
repulsed it. It is in the agitation thus occasioned, that 
Providence especially exercises its sovereignty ; realizing its 
absolute aim — its honour — as the result of unhappiness, sor- 
row, private aims and the unconscious will of the nations of 
the earth. 

While, therefore, in the West this long process in the 
world's history— necessary to that purification by which 
Spirit in the concrete is realized— is commencing, the purifi- 
cation requisite for developing Spirit in the abstract which 
we observe carried on contemporaneously in the East, is 
more quickly accomplished. The latter does not needalonir 
process, and we see it produced rapidly, even suddenly, in 
the first half of the seventh century, in Mahometanism. 



CHAPTEE II. 

MAHOMETANISM, 



On the one hand we see the European world forming it- 
self anew, — the nations taking firm root there, to produce a 
world of free reality expanded and developed in every direc- 
tion. We behold them beginning their work by bringing 
all social relations under the form of particularity — with 
dull and narrow intelligence splitting that which in its na- 
ture is generic and normal, into a multitude of chance con- 
tingencies ; rendering that which ought to be simple prin- 
ciple and law, a tangled web of convention. In short, while 
the West began to shelter itself in a political edifice of chance, 
entanglement and particularity, the very opposite direction 
necessarily made its appearance in the world, to produce the 
balance of the totality of spiritual manifestation. This took 

2 B 



870 PART IV. THE QEEMATf WOELD. 

place in the Bevolution of the East, which destroyed all par- 
ticularity and dependence, and perfectly cleared up and 
purified the soul and disposition ; making the abstract 
One the absolute object of attention and devotion, and to 
the same extent, pure subjective consciousness — the Know- 
ledge of this One alone — the only aim of reality; — making 
the Unconditioned [das Verhaltnisslose] the condition 
[Verhaltniss] of existence. 

AVe have already become acquainted with the nature of tlie 
Oriental principle, and seen that its Highest Being is only 
negative - — that with it the positive imports an abandonment 
to mere nature — the enslavement of Spirit to the world of 
realities. Only among the Jews have we observed the prin- 
ciple of pure Unity elevated to a thought ; for only among 
them was adoration paid to the One, as an object of thought. 
This unity then remained, when the purification of the 
mind to the conception of abstract Spirit had been accom- 
plished; but it was freed from the particularity by which 
the worship of Jehovah had been hampered. Jehovah was 
only the God of that one people — the God of Abraham, of 
Isaac and Jacob : only with the Jews had this God made a 
covenant ; only to this people had he revealed himself. That 
speciality of relation was done away with in Mahometanism. 
In this spiritual universality, in this unlimited and indefinite 
purity and simplicity of conception, human personality has no 
other aim than the realization of this universality and sim- 
plicity. Allah has not the affirmative, limited aim of the 
Judaic God. The worship of the One is the only final aim 
of Mahometanism, and subjectivity has this worship for the 
sole occupation of its activity, combined with the design to 
subjugate secular existence to the One. This One has in- 
deed, the quality of Spirit ; yet because subjectivity suff'ers 
itself to be absorbed in the object, this One is deprived of 
every concrete predicate ; so that neither does subjectivity 
become on its part spiritually free, nor on the other hand is 
the object of its veneration concrete. But Mahometanism is 
not the Hindoo, not the Monastic immersion in the Absolute. 
Subjectivity is here living and unlimited — an energy which 
enters into secular life with a purely negative purpose, and 
busies itself and interferes with the world, only in such a 
way as shall promote the pure adoration of the One. The 



MAHOMETANISM. 371 

object of Mahometan worship is purely intellectual ; no image, 
no representation of Allah is tolerated. Mahomet is a prophet 
but still man,— not elevated above human weaknesses. The 
leading features of Mahometanism involve this — that in ac- 
tual existence nothing can become fixed, but that everything 
is destined to expand itself in activity and life in the boundless 
amplitude of the world, so that the worship of the One remains 
the only bond by which the whole is capable of uniting. In 
this expansion, this active energy, all limits, all national and 
caste distinctions vanish ; no particular race, no political 
claim of birth or possession is regarded — only man as a he- 
liever. To adore the One, to believe in him, to fast — to 
remove the sense of speciality and consequent separation from 
the Infinite, arising from corporeal limitation — and to give 
alms — that is, to get rid of particular private possession, — 
these are the essence of Mahometan injunctions ; but the 
highest merit is to die for the Taith. He who perishes for 
it in battle, is sure of Paradise. 

The Mahometan religion originated among the Arabs. 
Here Spirit exists in its simplest form, and the sense of the 
formless has its especial abode ; for in their deserts nothing 
can be brought into a firm consistent shape. The flight 
of Mahomet from Mecca in the year 622 is the Moslem era. 
Even during his life, and under his own leadership, but espe- 
cially by following up his designs after his death under the 
guidance of his successors, the Arabs achieved their vast con- 
quests. They first came down upon Syria and conquered its 
capital Damascus in the year 634. They then passed the 
Euphrates and Tigris and turned their arms against Persia, 
which soon submitted to them. In the West they conquered 
Egypt, Northern Africa and Spain, and pressed into Southern 
Prance as far as the Loire, where they were defeated by 
Charles Martel near Tours, a.b. 732. Thus the dominion 
of the Arabs extended itself in the West. In the East they 
reduced successively Persia, as already stated, Samarkand, 
and the South-western part of Asia Minor. These con- 
quests, as also the spread of their religion, took place with 
extraordinary rapidity. Whoever became a convert to 
Islam, gained a perfect equality of rights with all Mussulmen. 
Those who rejected . it, were, during the earliest period, 
slaughtered. Subsequently, however^ the Arabs behaved 

2 B 2 



372 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLP. 

more leniently to the conquered; so that if they were un wil- 
ing to go over to Islam, they were only required to pay an 
annual poll-tax. The towns that immediately submitted, 
were obliged to pay the victor a tithe of all their possessions ; 
those which had to be captured, 2ijifth. 

Abstraction swayed the minds of the Mahometans. 
Their object was, to establish an abstract worship, and they 
struggled for its accomplishment with the greatest enthu- 
siasm. This enthusiasm was Fanaticism, that is, an enthu- 
siasm for something abstract — for an abstract thought which 
sustains a negative position towards the established order of 
things. It is the essence of fanaticism to bear only a desolating 
destructive relation to the concrete; but that of Mahometanism 
was, at the same time, capable of the greatest elevation — an 
elevation free from all petty interests, and united with all 
the virtues that appertain to magnanimity and valour. La 
religion et la terreur was the principle in this case, as with 
Hobespierre, la liberie et la terreur. But real life is never- 
theless concrete, and introduces particular aims ; conquest 
leads to sovereignty and wealth, to the conferring of pre- 
rogatives on a dynastic family, and to a union of individuals. 
But all this is only contingent and built on sand ; it is to- 
day, and to-morrow is not. Witli all the passionate interest 
he shews, the Mahometan is really indifferent to this social 
fabric, and rushes on in the ceaseless whirl of fortune. In its 
spread Mahometanism founded many kingdoms and dynasties. 
On this boundless sea there is a continual onward movement ; 
nothing abides firm. "Whatever curls up into a form remains 
all the while transparent, and in that very instant glides 
away. Those dynasties were destitute of the bond of an 
organic firmness : the kingdoms, therefore, did nothing but 
degenerate ; the individuals that composed them simply van-* 
ished. Where, however, a noble soul makes itself prominent 
— like a billow in the surging of the sea — it manifests it- 
self in a majesty of freedom, such that nothing more noble, 
more generous, more valiant, more devoted was ever witnes- 
sed. The particular determinate object which the individual 
embraces is grasped by him entirely — with the whole soul. 
While Europeans are involved in a multitude of relations, and 
form, so to speak, " a bundle" of them— in Mahometanism the 
ind vidual is one passion and that alone ; he is superlatively 
cruel, cunning, bold, or generous. Where the sentiment of 



ilAHOMETANISM. 373 

love exists, there is an equal abandon — love the most fervid. 
The ruler who loves the slave, glorifies the object of his love 
by laying at his feet all his magnificence, power and honour, 
— forgetting sceptre and throne for him ; but on the other 
hand he will sacrifice him just as recklessly. This reckless 
fervour shews itself also in the glowing warmth of the Arab 
and Saracen poetry. That glow is the perfect freedom of 
fancy from every fetter, — an absorption in the life of its object 
and the sentiment it inspires, so that selfishness and egotism 
are utterly banished. 

Never has enthusiasm, as such, performed greater deeds. 
Individuals may be enthusiastic for what is noble and exal- 
ted in various particular forms. The enthusiasm of a people 
for its independence, has also a definite aim. But abstract 
and therefore all-comprehensive enthusiasm — restrained by 
nothing, finding its limits nowhere, and absolutely indifferent 
to all beside — is that of the Mahometan East. 

Proportioned to the rapidity of the Arab conquests, was 
the speed with which the arts and sciences attained among 
them their highest bloom. At first we see the con- 
querors destroying everything connected with art and science. 
Omar is said to have caused the destruction of the noble Alex- 
andrian library. " These books," said he, " either contain 
what is in the Koran, or something else : in either case they 
are superfiuous." But soon afterwards the Arabs became 
zealous in promoting the arts and spreading them every- 
where. Their empire reached the summit of its glory under 
the Caliphs Al-Mansor and Haroun Al-Easchid. Large cities 
arose in all parts of the empire, where commerce and manu- 
factures flourished, splendid palaces were built, and schools 
created. The learned men of the empire assembled at the 
Caliph's court, which not merely shone outwardly with the 
pomp of the costliest jewels, furniture and palaces, but was 
resplendent with the glory of poetry and all the sciences. 
At first the Caliphs still maintained entire that simplicity 
and plainness which characterized the Arabs of the desert, 
(the Caliph Abubeker is particularly famous in this respect, ) 
and which acknowledged no distinction of station and cul- 
ture. The meanest Saracen, the most insignificant old 
woman approached the Caliph as his equals. Unreflecting 



374 PART IV. THE GEEMA-N WOEID. 

naivete does not stand in need of culture ; and in virtue 
of the freedom of his Spirit, each one sustains a relation of 
equality to the ruler. 

The great empire of the Caliphs did not last long : for on 
the basis presented by Universality nothing is firm. The 
great Arabian empire fell about the same time as that of the 
Franks : thrones were demolished by slaves and by fresh 
invading hordes — the Seljuks and Mongols — and new king- 
doms founded, new dynasties raised to the throne. The 
Osman race at last succeeded in establishing a firm dominion, 
by forming for themselves a firm centre in the Janizaries. 
Fanaticism having cooled down, no moral principle remained 
in men's souls. In the struggle with the Saracens, Euro- 
pean valour had idealized itself to a fair and noble chivalry. 
Science and knowledge, especially that of philosophy, came 
from the Arabs into the "West. A noble poetry and free 
imagination was kindled among the Germans by the East — a 
fact which directed Goethe's attention to the Orient and 
occasioned the composition of a string of lyric pearls, in his 
*' Divan," which in warmth and felicity of fancy cannot be 
surpassed. But the East itself, when by degrees enthusiasm 
had vanished, sank into the grossest vice. The most hideous 
passions became dominant, and as sensual enjoyment waa 
sanctioned in the first form which Mahometan doctrine as- 
sumed, and was exhibited as a reward of the faithful in 
Paradise, it took the place of fanaticism. At present, driven 
back into its Asiatic and African quarters, and tolerated only 
in one corner of Europe through the jealousy of Christian 
Powers, Islam has long vanished from the stage of history 
at large, and has retreated into Oriental ease and repose. 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE EMPIRE OF CHARLEMAGNE. 

The empire of the Pranks, as already stated, was founded 
by Clovis. After his death, it was divided among his sons. 



EMPIEE or CHARLEMAGNE. 375 

Subsequently, after many struggles and the employment of 
treachery, assassination and violence, it was again united, and 
once more divided. Internally the power of the kings was very 
much increased, by their having become princes in conquered 
lands. These were indeed parcelled out among the Frank 
freemen ; but very considerable permanent revenues accrued 
to the king, together with what had belonged to the em- 
perors, and the spoils of confiscation. These therefore the 
king bestowed as personal, i.e. not heritable, heneficia, on his 
warriors, who in receiving them entered into a personal ob- 
ligation to him — became his vassals and formed his feudal 
array. The very opulent Bishops were united with them 
in constituting the King's Council, which however did not 
circumscribe the royal authority. At the head of the feu- 
dal array was the Major Domus. These Majores Domiis soon 
assumed the entire power and threw the royal authority into 
the shade, while the kings sank into a torpid condition and 
became mere puppets. From the former sprang the dynasty 
of the Carlovingians. Pepin Ze Bref, the son of Charles 
Martel, was in the year 752 raised to the dignity of King of 
the Pranks. Pope Zachary released the Franks from their 
oath of allegiance to the still living Childeric III — the last 
of the Merovingians — who received the tonsure, i. e. became 
a monk, and was thus deprived of the royal distinction of 
long hair. The last of the Merovingians were utter weak- 
lings, who contented themselves with the name of royalty, 
and gave themselves up almost entirely to luxury, — a phe- 
nomenon that is quite common in the dynasties of the East, 
and is also met with again among the last of the Carlovin- 
gians. The Majores Domus, on the contrary, were in the 
very vigour of ascendant fortunes, and were in such close 
alliance with the feudal nobility, that it became easy for 
them ultimately to secure the throne. 

The Popes were most severely pressed by the Lombard 
kings and sought protection from the Pranks. Out of grati- 
tude Pepin undertook to defend Stephen II. He led an army 
twice across the Alps, and twice defeated the Lombards. 
His victories gave splendour to his newly established throne, 
and entailed a considerable heritage on the Chair of St. 
Peter. In a. d. 800 the sou of Pepin — Charlemagne — was 



37G I'ART lY. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

crowned Emperor by the Pope, and heBce originated the firm 
union of the Carlovingians with the Papal See. Eor the 
Koman Empire continued to enjoy among the barbarians 
the prestige of a great power, and was ever regarded by them 
as the centre from which civil dignities, religion, laws and 
all branches of knowledge — beginning with written charac- 
ters themselves — flowed to them. Charles Martel, after he 
had delivered Europe from Saracen domination, was — him- 
self and his successors — dignified with the title of " Patrician" 
by the people and senate of Rome ; but Charlemagne was 
crowned Emperor, and that by the Pope himself. 

There were now, therefore, two Empires, and in them the 
Christian confession was gradually divided into two Churches, 
the Greek and the Roman. The Eoman Emperor was the 
born defender of the E^oman Church, and this position of'the 
Emperor towards the Pope seemed to declare that the 
Prank sovereignty was only a continuation of the B/oman 
Empire. 

The Empire of Charlemagne had a very considerable ex- 
tent. Pranconia Proper stretched from the Ehine to the 
Loire. Aquitania, south of the Loire, was in 768 — the year 
of Pepin's death — entirely subjugated. The Frank Empire 
also included Burgundy, Alemannia (southern Grermany 
between the Lech, the Maine and the Rhine), Thuringia, 
which extended to the Saale, and Bavaria. Charlemagne 
likewise conquered the Saxons, who dwelt between the 
Ehine and the Weser, and put an end to the Lombard do- 
minion, so that he became master of Upper and Central 
Italy. 

This great empire Charlemagne formed into a systemati- 
cally organized State, and gave the Frank dominion settled 
institutions adapted to impart to it strength and consistency. 
This must however not be understood, as if he first intro- 
duced the Constitution of his empire in its whole extent, but 
as implying that institutions partly already in existence, were 
developed under his guidance, and attained a more decided 
and unobstructed efficiency. The King stood at the head of 
the officers of the empire, and the principle of hereditary mon- 
archy was already recognized. The King was likewise mas- 
ter of the armed force, as also the largest landed proprietor, 



EMPIEE OF CHARLEMAGNE. 377 

while the supreme judicial power was equally in his hands. 
The military constitution was based on the "Arrier-ban.''" 
Every freeman was bound to arm for the defence of the 
realm, and had to provide for his support in the field for a 
certain time. This militia (as it would now be called) was under 
the command of Counts and Margraves, which latter pre- 
sided over large districts on the borders of the empire, 
— the "Marches." According to the general partition of the 
eountry, it was divided into provinces [or counties] over each 
of which a Count presided. Over them again, under the 
ater Carlovingians, were Dukes, whose seats were large 
3ities, such as Cologne, E-atisbon, and the like. Their office 
gave occasion to the division of the country into Duchies : 
thus there was a Duchy of Alsatia, Lorraine, Frisia, 
Thuringia, Ehsetia. These Dukes were appointed by the 
Emperor. Peoples that had retained their hereditary 
princes after their subjugation, lost this privilege and re- 
ceived Dukes, when they revolted ; this was the case with 
Alemannia, Thuringia, Bavaria, and Saxony. But there was 
also a kind of standing army for readier use. The vassals of 
the emperor, namely, had the enjoyment of estates on the con- 
dition of performing military service, whenever commanded. 
And with a view to maintain these arrangements, commis- 
sioners (Missi) w^ere sent out by the emperor, to observe and 
report concerning the affairs of the Empire, and to inquire 
into the state of judicial administration and inspect the 
royal estates. 

Not less remarkable is the management of the revenues of 
the state. There were no direct taxes, and few tolls on rivers 
and roads, of which several were farmed out to the higher 
officers of the empire. Into the treasury flowed on the one 
hand judicial fines, on the other hand the pecuniary satis- 
factions made for not gerving in the army at the emperor's 
summons. Those who enjoyed henejicia, lost them on neg- 
lecting this duty. The chief revenue was derived from the 
crown-lands, of which the emperor had a great number, 
on which royal palaces [Pfalzen] were erected. It had been 
long the custom for the kings to make progresses through 
the chief provinces, and to remain for a time in each palati- 
nate j the due preparations for the maintenance of the 



378 PAKT 17. THE GERMAN WOHLD. 

court having been already made by Marshals, Chamberlains, 
&c. 

As regards the administration of justice, criminal causes 
and those which concern real property were tried before the 
communal assemblies under the presidency of a Count. 
Those of less importance were decided by at least seven free 
jnen — an elective bench of magistrates — under the presidency 
of the Centgraves. The supreme jurisdiction belonged to the 
royal tribunals, over which the king presided in his palace : 
to these the feudatories, spiritual and temporal, were ame- 
nable. The royal commissioners mentioned above gave es- 
pecial attention in their inquisitorial visits to the judicial 
administration, heard all complaints, and punished injustice. 
A spiritual and a temporal envoy had to go their circuit 
four times a year. 

In Charlemagne's time the ecclesiastical body had already 
acquired great weight. The bishops presided over great 
cathedral establishments, with which were also connected 
seminaries and scholastic institutions. For Charlemagne 
endeavoured to restore science, then almost extinct, by pro- 
moting the foundation of schools in towns and villages. 
Pious souls believed that they were doing a good work and 
earning salvation by making presents to the church ; in this 
way the most savage and barbarous monarchs sought to atone 
for their crimes. Private persons most commonly made 
their offerings in the form of a bequest of their entire estate 
to religious houses, stipulating for the enjoyment of the usu- 
fruct only for life or for a specified time. But it often hap- 
pened that on the death of a bishop or abbot, the temporal 
magnates and their retainers invaded the possessions of the 
clergy, and fed and feasted there till all was consumed ; for 
religion had not yet such an authority over men's minds as to 
be able to bridle the rapacity of the powerful. The clergy 
were obliged to appoint stewards and baihffs to manage 
their estates ; besides this, guardians had charge of all their 
secular concerns, led their men at arms into the field, and 
gradually obtained from the king territorial jurisdiction, 
when the ecclesiastics had secured the privilege of being 
amenable only to their own tribunals, and enjoyed immunity 
from the authority of the royal officers of justice (the Counts). 



EilPIRE OF CHAELEMAGSE. 379 

This involved an important step in the change of political 
relations, inasmuch as the ecclesiastical domains assumed 
more and more the aspect of independent provinces enjoying 
a freedom surpassing any thing to which those of secular 
princes had yet made pretensions. Moreover the clergy 
contrived subsequently to free themselves from the burdens 
of the state, and opened the churches and monasteries as 
asylums, — that is, inviolable sanctuaries for all offenders. 
This institution was on the one hand very beneficial as a 
protection in cases of violence and oppression ; but it was 
perverted on the other hand into a means of impunity foi 
the grossest crimes. In Charlemagne's time, the law could 
still demand from conventual authorities the surrender of 
offenders. The bishops were tried by a judicial bench con- 
sisting of bishops ; as vassals they were properly subject to 
the royal tribunal. Afterwards the monastic establishments 
sought to free themselves from episcopal jurisdiction also : 
and thus they made themselves independent even of the 
church. The bishops were chosen by the clergy and the re- 
ligious communities at large ; but as they were also vassals of 
the sovereign, their feudal dignity had to be conferred by 
him. The contingency of a contest was avoided by the obli- 
gation to choose a person approved of by the king. 

The imperial tribunals were held in the palace where the 
emperor resided. The sovereign himself presided in them, 
and the magnates of the imperial court constituted with him 
the supreme judicial body. The deliberations of the impe- 
rial council on the affairs of the empire did not take place at 
appointed times, but as occasions offered — at military reviews 
in the spring, at ecclesiastical councils and on court-days. It 
was especially these court-days, to which the feudal nobles 
were invited, — when the king held his court in a particular 
province, generally on the Khine, the centre of the Frank 
empire, — tliat gave occasion to the deliberations in question. 
Custom required the sovereign to assemble twice a year a 
select body of the higher temporal and ecclesiastical func- 
tionaries, but here also the king had decisive power. These 
conventions are therefore of a different character from the 
Imperial Diets of later times, in whicli the nobles assume a 
more independent position. 



380 PAET IT. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

Such was the state of the Frank Empire, — that first con- 
solidation of Christianity into a political form proceeding 
from itself, the Koman empire having been swallowed 
up by Christianity. The constitution just described looks 
excellent ; it introduced a firm military organization, and 
provided for the administration of justice within the empire. 
Tet after Charlemagne's death it proved itself utterly power- 
less, — externally defenceless against the invasions of the Nor- 
mans, Hungarians, and Arabs, and internally inefficient in 
resisting lawlessness, spoliation, and oppression of every kind. 
Thus we see, side by side with an excellent constitution, the 
most deplorable condition of things, and therefore confusion 
in all directions. Such political edifices need, for the very 
reason that they originate suddenly, the additional strength- 
ening afforded by negativity evolved within themselves : they 
need reactions in every form, such as manifest themselves in 
the following period. 



SECTION II. 

THE MIDDLE AGES. 



"While the iirst period of the G-erman AVorld ends bril- 
liantly with a mighty empire, the second is commenced by 
the reaction resulting from the antithesis occasioned by that 
infinite falsehood which rules the destinies of the Middle Ages 
and constitutes their life and spirit. This reaction is first, 
that of the particular nationalities against the universal so- 
vereignty of the Erank empire, — manifesting itself in the 
splitting up of that great empire. The second reaction is that 
of individuals against legal authority and the executive power, 
— against subordination, and the military and judicial ar- 
rangements of the constitution. This produced the isolation 
and therefore defencelessness of individuals. The universality 
of the power of the state disappeared through this reaction : 
individuals sought protection with the powerful, and the 
latter became oppressors. Thus was gradually introduced a 
condition of universal dependence, and this protecting r& 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 381 

lation is then systematized into the Feudal System. The 
third reaction is that of the church — the reaction of the 
spiritual element against the existing order of things. Se- 
cular extravagances of passion were repressed and kept in 
check by the Church, bnt the latter was itself secularized in 
the process, and abandoned its proper position. From that 
moment begins the introversion of the secular principle- 
These relations and reactions all go to constitute the history 
of the Middle Ages, and the culminating point of this period 
is tJie Crusades ; for with them arises a universal instability, 
but one through which the states of Christendom, first attain 
internal and external independence. 



CHAPTEE I. 
THE FEUDALITY AND THE HIERARCHY. 

The First Beaction is that of particular nationality 
against the universal sovereignty of the Franks. It appears 
indeed, at first sight, as if the Frank empire was divided by 
the mere choice of its sovereigns ; but another consideration 
deserves attention, vis. that this division was popular, and 
was accordingly maintained by the peoples. It was, there- 
fore, not a mere dynastic act,— which might appear unwise, 
since the princes thereby weakened their own power, — but 
a restoration of those distinct nationalities which had been 
held together by a connecting bond of irresistible might and 
the genius of a great man. Louis the Pious \le Dehonnaire,'] 
son of Charlemagne, divided the empire among his three sons. 
But subsequently, by a second marriage, another son waa 
sorn to him — Charles the Bald. As he wished to give him 
also an inheritance, wars and conteutions arose between Louis 
and his other sons, whose already received portion would 
have to be diminished by such an arrangement. In the first 
instance, therefore, a private interest was involved in the con- 
test ; but that of the nations which composed the empire made 
the issue not indifferent to them. The western Franks had 



S82 PART IV. THE GERMAN "WORLD. 

already identified themselves with the Gauls, and with them 
originated a reaction against the Grerman Franks, as also at 
a later epoch one on the part of Italy against the Germans. 
By the treaty of Verdun, a. d. 843, a division of the empire 
among Charlemagne's descendants took place ; the whole 
Frank empire, some provinces excepted, was for a moment 
again united under Charles the Gross. It was, however, 
only for a short time that this weak prince was able to hold 
the vast empire together ; it was broken up into many 
smaller sovereignties, which developed and maintained an in- 
dependent position. These were the Kingdom of Italy, 
which was itself divided, the two Burgundian sovereignties — 
Upper Burgundy, of which the chief centres were Geneva 
and the convent of St. Maurice in Yalaise, and Lower Bur- 
gundy between the Jura, the Mediterranean and the Ehone, 
— Lorraine, between the Ehine and the Meuse, Normandy, 
and Brittany. France Proper was shut in between these 
sovereignties ; and thus limited did Hugh Capet find it when 
he ascended the throne. Eastern Franconia, Saxony, Thu- 
ringia, Bavaria, Swabia, remained parts of the German Em- 
pire. Thus did the unity of the Frank monarchy fall to 
pieces. The internal arrangements of the Frank empire also 
suffered a gradual but total decay ; and the first to disap- 
pear was the military organization. Soon after Charlemagne 
we see the Norsemen from various quarters making inroads 
into England, France and Germany. In England seven 
dynasties of Anglo-Saxon Kings were originally established, 
but in the year 827 Egbert united these sovereignties into 
a single kingdom. In the reign of his successor the Danes 
made very frequent invasions and pillaged the country. In 
Alfred the Great's time they met with vigorous resistance, but 
riubsequently the Danish King Canute conquered all England. 
The inroads of the Normans into France were contempora- 
neous with these events. They sailed up the Seine and the 
Loire in light boats, plundered the towns, pillaged the con- 
vents, and went off with their booty. They beleaguered Paris 
itself, and the Carlovingian Kings were reduced to the base 
necessity of purchasing a peace. In the same way they de- 
vastated the towns lying on the Elbe ; and from the Rhine 
plundered Aix-la-Chapeile and Cologne, and made Lorraine 



SECT. TI. THE MIDDLE iGES. 383 

tributary to them. The Diet of "Worms, in 882, did indeed 
issue a general proclamation, summoning all subjects to rise 
in arms, but they were compelled to put up with a disgraceful 
composition. These storms came from the north and the 
west. The Eastern side of the empire suffered from the 
inroads of the Magyars. These barbarian peoples traversed 
the country in waggons, and laid waste the whole of Southern 
Germany. Through Bavaria, Swabia, and Switzerland they 
penetrated into the interior of France and reached Italy. The 
Haracens pressed forward from the South. Sicily had been 
long in their hands : they thence obtained a firm footing 
in Italy, menaced Eome, — which diverted their attack by a 
composition, — and were the terror of Piedmont and Pro- 
vence. 

Thus these three peoples invaded the empire from all sides 
in great masses, and in their desolating marches almost came 
into contact with each other. France was devastated by the 
Normans as far as the Jura ; the Hungarians reached Swit- 
zerland, and the Saracens Yalaise. Calling to mind that 
organization of the " Arrier-ban," and considering it in 
juxta-position with this miserable state of things, we cannot 
fail to be struck with the inefficiency of all those far-famed 
institutions, which at such a juncture ought to have shewn 
themselves most effective. We might be inclined to regard 
the picture of the noble and rational constitution of the 
Frank monarchy under Charlemagne, — exhibiting itself as 
strong, comprehensive, and well ordered, internally and ex- 
ternally, — as a baseless figment. Yet it actually existed ; 
the entire political system being held together only by the 
power, the greatness, the regal soul of this one man, — not 
based on the spirit of the people, — not having become a vital 
element in it. It was superficially induced — an a priori 
constitution like that which Napoleon gave to Spain, and 
which disappeared with the physical power that sustained 
it. That, on the contrary, which renders a constitution real, 
is that it exists as Objective Freedom — the Substantial form 
of volition — as duty and obligation acknowledged by the 
subjects themselves. But obligation was not yet recognized 
by the Grerman Spirit, which hitherto shewed itself only as 
** Heart" and subjective choice ; for it there was as yet no 



384 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

subjectivity involving unity, but only a subjectivity condi- 
tioned by a careless superficial self-seeking. Thus that con- 
stitution was destitute of any firm bond ; it had no objective 
support in subjectivity ; for in fact no constitution was as 
yet possible. 

This leads us to the Second Reaction— that of individuals 
against the authority of law. The capacity of appreciating legal 
order and the common weal is altogether absent, has no vital 
existence in the peoples themselves. The duties of every free 
citizen, the authority of the judge to give judicial decisions, 
that of the count of a pro\dnce to hold his court, and interest 
in the laws as such, are no longer regarded as valid now that 
the strong hand from above ceases to hold the reins of sove- 
reignty. The brilliant administration of Charlemagne had van- 
ished without leaving a trace, and the immediate consequence 
was the general defencelessness of individuals. The need of 
protection is sure to be felt in some degree in every well-orga- 
nized state : each citizen knows his rights and also knows that 
for the security of possession the social state is absolutely ne- 
cessary. Barbarians have not yet attained this sense of need 
— the want of protection from others. They look upon it as a 
limitation of their freedom if their rights must be guaranteed 
them by others. Thus, therefore, the impulse towards a firm 
organization did not exist : men must first be placed in a 
defenceless condition, before they were sensible of the neces- 
sity of the organization of a State. The political edifice had 
to be reconstructed from the very foundations. The com- 
monwealth as then organized had no vitality or firmness at 
all either in itself or in the minds of the people ; and its 
weakness manifested itself in the fact that it was unable to 
give protection to its individual members. As observed 
above, the idea of duty was not present in the Spirit of the 
Germans ; it had to be restored. In the first instance volition 
could only be arrested in its wayward career in reference to 
the merely external point o^ possession ; and to make it feel 
the importance of the protection of the State, it had to be vio- 
lently dislodged from its obtuseness and impelled by necessity 
to seeK union and a social condition. Individuals were 
therefore obliged to consult for themselves by taking re- 
fuge with Individuals, and submitted to the authority of cer- 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 385 

tain powerful persons, who constituted a private possession 
and personal sovereignty out of that authority which for- 
merly belonged to the Commonwealth. As officers of the 
State, the counts did not meet with obedience from those 
committed to their charge, and they were as little desirous of 
it. Only for themselves did they covet it. They assumed to 
themselves the power of the State, and made the authority 
with which they had been entrusted as a henejicium, an he- 
ritable possession. As in earlier times the King or other 
magnates conferred fiefs on their vassals by way of rewards, 
now, conversely, the weaker and poorer surrendered their 
possessions to the strong, for the sake of gaining efficient 
protection. They committed their estates to a Lord, a Con- 
vent, an Abbot, a Bishop (feudum oilatum), and received 
them buck, encumbered with feudal obligations to these su- 
periors. Instead of freemen they became vassals — feudal 
dependants — and their possession a leneficium. This is the 
constitution of the Feudal System. '* 'FeudwrrC is connected 
with '■'fides'' ; the fidelity implied in this case is a bond es- 
tablished on unjust principles, a relation that does indeed con- 
template a legitimate object, but whose import is not a whii the 
less injustice ; for the fidelity of vassals is not an obligation 
to the Commonwealth, but a private one — ipso facto therefore 
subject to the sway of chance, caprice, and violence. Univer- 
sal injustice, universal lawlessness is reduced to a system of 
dependence on and obligation to individuals, so that the 
mere formal side of the matter, the mere fact of compact con- 
stitutes its sole connection with the principle of Eight. — 
Since every man had to protect himself, the martial spirit, 
which in point of external defence seemed to have most 
ignominiously vanished, was re-awakened ; for torpidity 
was roused to action partly by extreme ill-usage, partly 
by the greed and ambition of individuals. The valour that 
now manifested itself, w^as displayed not on behalf of the 
State, but of private interests. In every district arose cas- 
tles ; fortresses were erected, and that for the defence of 
private property, and with a view to plunder and tyranny. 
In the way just mentioned, the political totality was 
ignored at those points where individual authority was es- 
tablished, among which the seats of bishops and arch- 

2 c 



386 PAKT IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

bishops deserve especial mention. The bishopries had been 
freed from the jurisdiction of the judicial tribunals, and from 
the operations of the executive generallv. The bishops had 
stewards on whom at their request the Emperors conferred 
the jurisdiction which the Counts had formerly exercised. 
Thus there were detached ecclesiastical domains — ecclesias- 
tical districts which belonged to a saint (Germ.Weichbilder). 
Similar suzerainties of a secular kind were subsequently con- 
stituted. Both occupied the position of the previous Pro- 
vinces [Gaue]or Counties [Grafschaften.] Only in a few towns 
where communities of freemen were independently strong 
enough to secure protection and safety, did relics of the an- 
cient free constitution remain. With these exceptions the 
free communities entirely disappeared, and became subject to 
the prelates or to the Counts and Dukes, thenceforth known 
as seigneurs and princes. The imperial power was extolled 
in general terms, as something very great and exalted : 
the Emperor passed for the secular head of entire Chris- 
tendom : but the more exalted the ideal dignity of the 
emperors, the more limited was it in reality. Erance derived 
extraordinary advantage from the fact that it entirely repu- 
diated this baseless assumption, while in Germany the ad- 
vance of political development was hiadered by that pretence 
of power. The kings and emperors were no longer chiefs of 
the state, but of the princes, who were indeed their vassals, 
but possessed sovereignty and territorial lordships of their 
own. The whole social condition therefore, being founded on 
individual sovereignty, it might be supposed that the advance 
to a State would be possible only through the return of those 
individual sovereignties to an official relationship. But to 
accomplish this, a superior power would have been required, 
such as was not ' in existence ; for the feudal lords them- 
selves determined how far they were still dependent on the 
general constitution of the state. No authority of Law and 
Right is valid any longer ; nothing but chance power, — the 
crude caprice of particular as opposed to universally valid 
Eight; and this struggles against equality of Bights and Laws. 
Inequality of political privileges — the allotment being the 
work of the purest hap-hazard — is the predominant feature. 
It is impossible that a Monarchy can arise from such a social 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 387 

condition through the subjugation of the several minor 
■powers under the Chief of the State, as such. Eeversely, 
the former were gradually transformed into Principalities, 
[Fiirstenthiimer,] and became united with the Principality 
of the Chief ; thus enabling the authority of the king and 
of the state to assert itself. While, therefore, the bond of 
political unity was still wanting, the several seigneuries 
attained their development independently. 

In Prance the dynasty of Charlemagne, like that of Clovis, 
became extinct through the weakness of the sovereigns who 
represented it. Their dominion was finally limited to the 
petty sovereiguty of Laon ; and the last of the Carlovingians, 
Duke Charles of Lorraine, who laid claim to the crown after 
the death of Louis Y., was defeated and taken prisoner. 
The powerful Hugh Capet, Duke of Prance, was proclaimed 
king. The title of King, however, gave him no real power ; 
his authority was based on his territorial possessions alone. 
At a later date, through purchase, marriage, and the dying 
out of families, the kings became possessed of many feudal 
domains ; and their authority was frequently, invoked as a 
protection against the oppressions of the nobles. The royal 
authority in Prance became heritable at an early date, be- 
cause the fiefs were heritable ; though at first the kings took 
the precaution to have their sons crowned during their life- 
time. Prance was divided into many sovereignties : the 
Duchy of Guienne, the Earldom of Planders, the Duchy of 
Gascony, the Earldom of Toulouse, the Duchy of Burgundy, 
the Earldom of Yermandois ; Lorraine too had belonged to 
Prance for some time. Normandy had been ceded to the 
Kormans by the kings of Prance, in order to secure a tem- 
porary repose from their incursions. Prom Normandy Duke 
William passed over into England and conquered it in the 
year 1066. Here he introduced a fully developed feudal 
constitution, — a network which, to a great extent, encom- 
passes England even at the present day. And thus the 
Dukes of Normandy confronted the comparatively feeble 
Kings of Prance with a power of no inconsiderable preten- 
sions. — Germany was composed of the great duchies of Sax- 
ony, Swabia, Bavaria, Carinthia, Lorraine and Burgundy, the 
Margraviate of Thuringia, &c, with several bishoprics and 

2c2 



388 PAET IV. THE GEHMA-N- WOELD. 

archbishoprics. Each of those duchies again was divided 
into several fiefs, enjoying more or less independence. The 
emperor seems often to have united several duchies under 
his immediate sovereignty. The Emperor Henry III. was, 
when he ascended the throne, lord of many large dukedoms ; 
but he weakened his own power by enfeoffing them to 
others. Germany was radically a free nation, and had not, 
as Erance had, any dominant family as a central authority ; it 
continued an elective empire. Its princes refused to sur- 
render the privilege of choosing their sovereign for them- 
selves ; and at every new election they introduced new re- 
strictive conditions, so that the imperial power was degraded 
to an empty shadow. — In Italy we find the same political 
condition. The German Emperors had pretensions to it : 
but their authority was valid only so far as they could sup- 
port it by direct force of arms, and as the Italian cities and 
nobles deemed their own advantage to be promoted by sub- 
mission. Italy was, like Germany, divided into many larger 
and smaller dukedoms, earldoms, bishoprics and seigneuries. 
The Pope had very little power, either in the North or in 
the South ; which latter was long divided between the 
Lombards and the Greeks, until both were overcome by the 
Normans. — Spain maintained a contest with the Saracens, 
either defensive or victorious, through the whole mediaeval 
period, till the latter finally succumbed to the more matured 
power of Christian civilization. 

Thus all Eight vanished before individual Might ; for 
equality of Eights and rational legislation, where the interests 
of the political Totality, of the State, are kept in view, had 
no existence. 

The Third Heaction, noticed above, was that of the ele- 
ment of Universality against the Eeal World as split up into 
particularity. This reaction proceeded from below upwards 
— from that condition of isolated possession itself ; and was 
then promoted chiefly by the church. A sense of the 
nothingness of its condition seized on the world as it were 
universally. In that condition of utter isolation, M-here only 
the unsanctioned might of individuals had any validity [where 
the State was non-existent,] men could find no repose, and 
Christendom was, so to speak, agitated by the tremor of an evil 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 389 

conscience. In the eleventh century, the fear of the ap- 
proaching final judgment and the belief in the speedy disso- 
lution of the world, spread through all Europe. This dis- 
may of soul impelled men to the most irrational proceedings. 
Some bestowed the whole of their possessions on the Church, 
and passed their lives in continual penance ; the majority 
dissipated their worldly all in riotous debauchery. The 
Church alone increased its riches by the hallucination,through 
donations and bequests. — About the same time too, terrible 
famines swept away their victims : human flesh was sold 
in open market. During this state of things, lawlessness, 
brutal lust, the most barbarous caprice, deceit and cunning, 
were the prevailing moral features. Italy, the centre of 
Christendom, presented the most revolting aspect. Every 
virtue was alien to the times in question ; consequently virtus 
had lost its proper meaning : in common use it denoted only 
violence and oppression, sometimes even libidinous outrage. 
This corrupt state of things affected the clergy equally 
with the laity. Their own advowees had made themselves 
masters of the ecclesiastical estates entrusted to their 
keeping, and lived on them quite at their own pleasure, 
restricting the monks and clergy to a scanty pittance. 
Monasteries that refused to accept advowees were compelled 
to do so ; the neighbouring lords taking the ofiice upon 
themselves or giving it to their sons. Only bishops and 
abbots maintained themselves in possession, being able to 
protect themselves partly by their own power, partly by 
means of their retainers ; since they were, for the most part, 
of noble families. 

The bishoprics being secular fiefs, their occupants were 
bound to the performance of imperial and feudal service. The 
investiture of the bishops belonged to the sovereigns, and it 
was their interest that these ecclesiastics should be attached 
to them. Whoever desired a bishopric, therefore, had to 
make application to the king ; and thus a regular trade was 
carried on in bishoprics and abbacies. Usurers who had 
lent money to the sovereign, received compensation by the 
bestowal of the dignities in question ; the worst of men thua 
came into possession of spiritual offices. There could be no 
question that the clergy ought to have been chosen by the 
religious community, and there were always influential per- 



390 PART IV. THE GEEMAir WORLD. 

sons who had the right of electing them ; but the king com- 
pelled them to yield to his orders. Nor did the Papal dig- 
nity fare any better. Through a long course of years the 
Counts of Tusculum near Rome conferred it on members of 
their own family, or on persons to whom they had sold it for 
large sums of money. The state of things became at last so 
intolerable, that laymen as well as ecclesiastics of energetic 
character opposed its continuance. The Emperor Henry III. 
put an end to the strife of factions, by nominating the Popes 
himself, and supporting them by his authority in defiance of 
the opposition of the Eoman nobility. Pope Nicholas II. 
decided that the Popes should be chosen by the Cardinals ; 
but as the latter partly belonged to dominant families, simi- 
lar contests of factions continued to accompany their election, 
Gregory VII. (already famous as Cardinal Hildebrand) 
sought to secure the independence of the church in this 
frightful condition of things, by two measures especially. 
First, he enforced the celibacy of the clergy. Prom the ear- 
liest times, it must be observed, the opinion had prevailed 
that it was commendable and desirable for the clergy to re- 
main unmarried. Yet the annalists and chroniclers inform 
us that this requirement was but indifferently complied with. 
Nicholas II. had indeed pronounced the married clergy to be 
a new sect ; but G-regory VII. proceeded to enforce the re- 
striction with extraordinary energy, excommunicating all the 
married clergy and all laymen who should hear mass when 
they officiated. In this way the ecclesiastical body was shut 
up within itself and excluded from the morality of the State. 
— His second measure was directed against simony, i.e. the 
sale of or arbitrary appointment to bishoprics and to "the 
Papal See itself. Ecclesiastical offices were thenceforth to 
be filled by the clergy, who were capable of administering 
them ; an arraugement which necessarily brought the eccle- 
siastical body into violent collision with secular seigneurs. 

These were the two grand measures by which G-regory 
purposed to emancipate the Church from its condition of de- 
pendence and exposure to secular violence. But Gregory 
made still further demands on the secular power. The 
transference of benefices to a new incumbent was to receive 
validity simply in virtue of his ordination by his ecclesiasti- 
cal superior, and the Pope was to have exclusive control over 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 391 

the vast property of the ecclesiastical community. The 
Church as a divinely constituted power, laid claim to supre- 
macy over secular authority, — fouudiug that claim on the 
abstract principle that the Divine is superior to the Secular. 
The Emperor at his coronation — a ceremony which only the 
Pope could perform — was obliged to promise upon oath that 
he would always be obedient to the Pope and the Church. 
Whole countries and states, such as Naples, Portugal, Eng- 
land and Ireland came into a formal relation of vassalage to 
the Papal chair. 

Thus the Church attained an independent position : the 
Bishops convoked synods in the various countries, and in 
these convocations the clergy found a permanent centre of 
unity and support. In this way the Church attained the 
most influential position in secular affairs. It arrogated to 
itself the award of princely crowns, and assumed the part of 
mediator between sovereign powers in war and peace. The 
contingencies which particularly favoured such interventions 
on the part of the Church were the marriages of princes. It 
frequently happened that princes wished to be divorced from 
their wives ; but for such a step they needed the permission 
of the Church. The latter did not let slip the opportunity 
of insisting upon the fulfilment of demands that might have 
been otherwise urged in vain, and thence advanced till it had 
obtained universal influence. In the chaotic state of 
the community generally, the intervention of the authority 
of the Church was felt as a necessity. By the introduction 
of the " Truce of God," feuds and private revenge were sus- 
pended for at least certain days in the week, or even for en- 
tire weeks ; and the Church maintained this armistice by 
the use of all its ghostly appliances of excommunication, 
interdict and other threats and penalties. The secular pos- 
sessions of the Church brought it however into a relation to 
other secular princes and lords, which was alien to its 
proper nature ; it constituted a formidable secular power in 
contraposition to them, and thus formed in the first instance 
a centre of opposition against violence and arbitrary wrong. 
It withstood especially the attacks upon the ecclesiastical 
foundations — the secular lordships of the Bishops ; and on 
occasion of opposition on the part of vassals to the violence 



392 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

and caprice of princes, the former had the support of the Pope. 
But in these proceedings the Church brought to bear against 
opponents only a torce and arbitrary resolve of the same 
kind as their own, and mixed up its secular interest with its 
interest as an ecclesiastical, i.e. a divinely substantial power. 
Sovereigns and peoples were by no means incapable of dis- 
criminating between the two, or of recognizing the worldly 
aims that were apt to intrude as motives for ecclesiastical 
intervention. They therefore stood by the Church as far 
as they deemed it their interest to do so ; otherwise they 
shewed no great dread of excommunication or other ghostly 
terrors. Italy was the country w^here the authority of the 
Popes was least respected ; and the worst usage they experi- 
enced was from the Eomans themselves. Thus what the 
Popes acquired in point of land and wealth and direct 
sovereignty, they lost in influence and consideration. 

We have then to probe to its depths the spiritual element in 
the Church,— the form of its power. The essence of the 
Christian principle has already been unfolded ; it is the prin- 
ciple of Mediation. Man realizes his Spiritual essence only 
when he conquers the iS'atural that attaches to him. This 
conquest is possible only on the supposition that the human 
and the divine nature are essentially one, and that Man, so 
far as he is Spirit, also possesses the essentiality and substan- 
tiality that belongs to the idea of Deity. The condition of the 
mediation in question is the consciousness of this unity ; and 
the intuition of this unity was given to man in Christ. The 
object to be attained is therefore, that man should lay hold on 
this consciousness, and that it should be continually excited 
in him. This was the design of the Mass: in theRost Christ is 
set forth as actually present : the piece of bread consecrated 
by the priest is the present God, subjected to human con- 
templation and ever and anon offered up. One feature of this 
representation is correct, inasmuch as the sacrifice of Christ is 
here regarded as an actual and eternal transaction, Christ 
being not a mere sensuous and single, but a completely uni- 
versal, i.e. divine individuum ; but on the other hand it in- 
volves the error of isolating the sensuous phase ; for the 
Host is adored even apart from its being partaken of by the 
faithful, and the presence of Christ is not exclusively limited 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 393 

mental vision and Spirit. Justly therefore did the Lutheran 
Eeformation make this dogma an especial object of attack. 
Luther proclaimed the great doctrine that the Host had 
spiritual value and Christ was received only on the condition 
of faith in him ; apart from this, the Host, he affirmed, was 
a mere external thing, possessed of no greater value than 
any other thing. But the Catholic falls down before the 
Host ; and thus the merely outward has sanctity ascribed to 
it. The Holy as a mere thing has the character of exter- 
nality ; thus it is capable of being taken possession of by 
another to my exclusion : it may come into an alien hand, 
since the process of appropriating it is not one that takes 
place in iSpirit, but is conditioned by its quality as an ex- 
ternal object [Dingheit]. The highest of human blessings 
is in the hands of others. Here arises ipso facto a separa- 
tion between those who possess this blessing and those who 
have to receive it from others— between the Clergy and the 
Laity. The laity as such are alien to the Divine. This is 
the absolute schism in which the Church in the Middle 
Ages was involved: it arose from the recognition of the 
Holy as something external. The clergy imposed certain 
conditions, to which the laity must conform if they would be 
partakers of the Holy. The entire development o^ doctrine, 
spiritual insight and the knowledge of divine things, belonged 
exclusively to the Church : it has to ordain, and the laity have 
simply to believe : obedience is their duty — the obedience of 
faith, without insight on their part. This position of things 
rendered faith a matter of external legislation, and resulted 
in compulsion and the stake. 

The generality of men are thus cut off from the Church ; 
and on the same principle they are severed from the Holy 
in every form. For on the same principle as that by which 
the clergy are the medium between man on the one hand and 
Grod and Christ on the other hand, the layman cannot directly 
apply to the Divine Being in his prayers, but only through 
mediators — human beings who conciliate G-od for him, the 
Dead, the Vev^ect — Saints. Thus originated the adoration 
of the Saints, and with it that conglomerate of fables and 
falsities with which the Saints and their biographies have 
been invested. In the East the worship of images had early 



394 PART IV. THE GEEMATS: WORLD. 

become popular, and after a lengthened struggle had triumph- 
antly established itself: — an image, a picture, though sen- 
suous, still appeals rather to the imagination ; but the coarser 
natures of the West desired something more immediate as the 
object of their contemplation, and thus arose the worship of 
relics. The consequence was a formal resurrection of the dead 
in the mediaeval period ; every pious Christian wished to be in 
possession of such sacred earthly remains. Among the Saints 
the chief object of adoration was the Virgin Mary. She is 
certainly the beautiful concept of pure love — a mother's love ; 
but Spirit and Thought stand higher than even this ; and in 
the worship of this conception that of God in Spirit was lost, 
and Christ himself was set aside. The element of media- 
tion between God and man was thus apprehended and held 
as something external. Thus through the perversion of 
the principle of Freedom, absolute Slavery became the es- 
tablished law. The other aspects and relations of the 
spiritual life of Europe during this period flow from this 
principle. Knowledge, comprehension of religious doctrine, 
is something of which Spirit is judged incapable ; it is the 
exclusive possession of a class, which has to determine the 
True. Eor man may not presume to stand in a direct rela- 
tion to God ; so that, as we said before, if he would apply 
to Him, he needs a mediator — a Saint. This view imports 
the denial of the essential unity of the Divine and Human ; 
since man, as such, is declared incapable of recognizing the 
Divine and of approaching thereto. And while humanity is 
thus separated from the Supreme Good, no change of heart, 
as such, is insisted upon, — for this would suppose that the 
unity of the Divine and the Human is to be found in man 
himself, —but the terrors of Hell are exhibited to man in the 
most terrible colours, to induce him to escape from them, not 
by moral amendment, but in virtue of something external 
— the " means of grace .'^ These, however, are an arcanwnx 
to the laity ; another — the ' Confessor,' must furnish him with 
them. The individual has to confess — is bound to expose all 
the particulars of his life and conduct to the view of the 
Confessor — and then is informed what course he has to pursue 
to attain spiritual safety. Thus the Church took the place 
of Conscience : it put men in leading strings like children, 



SECT. II. THE M1DDL35 AGES. 395 

and told them that man could not be freed from the torments 
which his sins had merited, by any amendment of his own 
moral condition, but by outward actions, opera operata — 
actions which were not the promptings of his own good-will, 
but performed by command of the ministers of the church ; 
e.g, hearing mass, doing penance, going through a certain 
number of prayers, undertaking pilgrimages, — actions which 
are unspiritual, stupefy the soul, and which are not only mere 
external ceremonies, but are such as can be even vicariously 
performed. The supererogatory works ascribed to the saints, 
could be purchased, and the spiritual advantage which they 
merited, secured to the purchaser. Thus was produced an 
utter derangement of all that is recognized as good and 
moral in the Christian Church : only external requirements 
are insisted upon, and these can be complied with in a 
merely external way. A condition the very reverse of Free- 
dom is intruded into the principle of Freedom itself. 

With this perversion is connected the absolute separation 
of the spiritual from the secular principle generally. There 
are two Divine Kingdoms, — the intellectual in the heart and 
cognitive faculty, and the socially ethical whose element 
and sphere is secular existence. It is science alone that can 
comprehend the kingdom of God and the socially Moral 
world as one Idea, and that recognizes the fact that the 
course of Time has witnessed a process ever tending to the 
realization of this unity. But Piety [or Eeligious Feeling] 
as such, has nothing to do with the Secular : it may make 
its appearance in that sphere on a mission of mercy, but 
this stops short of a strict socially ethical connection with 
it — does not come up to the idea of Freedom. B/cligious 
Feeling is extraneous to History, and has no History ; for 
History is rather the Empire of Spirit recognizing itself in 
its Subjective Freedom, as the economy of social morality 
[sittliches Eeich] in the State. In the Middle Ages that 
embodying of the Divine in actual life was wanting; the an- 
tithesis was not harmonized. Social morality was repre- 
sented as worthless, and that in its three most essential 
particulars. 

One phase of social morality is that connected with Love 
—with the emotions called forth in the marriage relation. 



396 PAET IT. THE GEBMAN WOELD. 

It is not proper to say that Celibacy is contrary to Nature, 
but that it is adverse to Social Morality [Sittlichkeit.] 
Marriage was indeed reckoned by the Church among the 
Sacraments ; but notwithstanding the position thus assigned 
it, it was degraded, inasmuch as celibacy was reckoned as the 
more holy state. A second point of social morality is pre- 
sented in Activity — the work man has to perform for his sub- 
sistence. His dignity consists in his depending entirely on 
his diligence, conduct, and intelligence, for the supply of his 
wants. In direct contravention of this principle, Pauperisniy 
laziness, inactivity, was regarded as nobler : and the Immoral 
thus received the stamp of consecration. A third point of 
morality is, that obedience be rendered to the Moral and 
E-ational, as an obedience to laws which I recognize as 
just ; that it be not that blind and unconditional compliance 
which does not know what it is doing, and whose course of 
action is a mere groping about without clear consciousness 
or intelligence. But it was exactly this latter kind of obe- 
dience that passed for the most pleasing to God ; a doctrine 
that exalts the o'bedience of Slavery, imposed by the arbitrary 
will of the Church, above the true obedience of Treedom. 

In this way the three vows of Chastity, Poverty, and 
Obedience turned out the very opposite of what they assumed 
to be, and in them all social morality was degraded. The 
Church was no longer a spiritual power, but an ecclesiastical 
one ; and the relation which the secular world sustained to 
it was unspiritual, automatic, and destitute of independent 
insight and conviction. As the consequence of this, we see 
everywhere vice, utter absence of respect for conscience, 
shamelessness, and a distracted state of things, of which the 
entire history of the period is the picture in detail. 

According to the above, the Church of the Middle Ages 
exhibits itself as a manifold Self-contradiction. Tor Subjec- 
tive Spirit, although testifying of the Absolute, is at the same 
time limited and definitely existing Spirit, as Intelligence 
and Will. Its limitation begins in its taking up this dis- 
tinctive position, and here consentaneously begins its contra- 
dictory and self-alienated phase ; for that intelligence and 
will are not imbued with the Truth, which appears in rela- 
tion to them as something given [posited ab extra'\. This 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 397 

externality of the Absolute Object of comprebension affects 
the consciousness thus :— that the Absolute Object presents 
itself as a merely sensuous, external thing — common out- 
ward existence — and yet claims to be Absolute: in the 
mediaeval view of things this absolute demand is made upon 
Spirit. The second form of the contradiction in question 
has to do with the relation which the Church itself sustains. 
The true Spirit exists in man — is his Spirit ; and the indi- 
vidual gives himself the certainty of this identity with the 
Absolute, in worship, — the Church sustaining merely the 
relation of a teacher and directress of this worship. But 
here, on the contrary, we have an ecclesiastical body, like 
the Brahmins in India, in possession of the Truth, — not 
indeed by birth, but in virtue of knowledge, teaching and 
training, — yet with the proviso that this alone is not suffi- 
cient, an external form, an unspiritual title being judged 
essential to actual possession. This outward form is Ordi- 
nation, whose nature is such that the consecration imparted 
inheres essentially like a sensuous quality in the individual, 
whatever be the character of his soul — be he irreligious, im- 
moral, or absolutely ignorant. The third kind of contradic- 
tion is the Church itself, in its acquisition as an outward 
existence, of possessions and an enormous property — a state 
of things which, since that Church despises or professes to 
despise riches, is none other than a Lie. 

And we found the State, during the mediaeval period, 
similarly involved in contradictions. We spoke above of 
an imperial rule, recognized as standing by the side of the 
Church and constituting its secular arm. But the power 
thus acknowledged is invalidated by the fact that the impe- 
rial dignity in question is an empty title, not regarded by 
the Emperor himself or by those who wish to make him the 
instrument of their ambitious views, as conferring solid au- 
thority on its possessor ; for passion and physical force as- 
sume an independent position, and own no subjection to that 
merely abstract conception. But secondly, the bond of union 
which holds the Mediaeval State together, and which we call 
Fidelity, is left to the arbitrary choice of men's disposition 
[G-emiith] which recognizes no objective duties. Conse- 
quently, this Fidelity is the most unfaithful thing possible. 



398 PAET IV. THE GEEMAN TVOEl.l>. 

German Honour in the Middle Ages has become a proverb : 
but examined more closely as History exhibits it we find it 
a veritable Funica fides or Grceca fides ; for the princes and 
vassals of the Emperor are true and honourable only to theit 
selfish aims, individual advantage and passions, but utterly 
untrue to the Empire and the Emperor ; because in '* Fide- 
lity" in the abstract, their subjective caprice receives a 
sanction, and the State is not organized as a moral totality. 
A third contradiction presents itself in the character of in- 
dividuals, exhibiting, as they do on the one hand, piety — 
religious devotion, the most beautiful in outward aspect, 
and springing from the very depths of sincerity — and on the 
other hand a barbarous deficiency in point of intelHgence 
and will. We find an acquaintance with abstract Truth, 
and yet the most uncultured, the rudest ideas of the Secu- 
lar and the Spiritual : a truculent delirium of passion 
and yet a Christian sanctity which renounces all that is 
worldly, and devotes itself entirely to holiness. So self- 
contradictory, so deceptive is this mediaeval period ; and the 
polemical zeal with which its excellence is contended for, is 
one of the absurdities of our times. Primitive barbarism, 
rudeness of manners, and childish fancy are not revolting ; 
they simply excite our pity. But the highest purity of soul 
defiled by the most horrible barbarity; the Truth, of which 
a knowledge has been acquired, degraded to a mere tool by 
falsehood and self-seeking ; that which is most irrational, 
coarse and vile, established and strengthened by the religious 
sentiment, — this is the most disgusting and revolting spec- 
tacle that was ever witnessed, and which only Philosophy 
can comprehend and so justify. Eor such an antithesis 
must arise in man's consciousness of the Holy while this 
consciousness still remains primitive and immediate ; and the 
profounder the truth to which Spirit comes into an implicit 
relation, — while it has not yet become aware of its own 
presence in that profound truth,— so much the more alien is 
it to itself in this its unknown form : but only as the result 
of this alienation does it attain its true harmonization. 

We have then contemplated the Church as the reaction of 
the Spiritual against the secular life of the time ; but this re- 
action is so conditioned, that it only subjects to itself that 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 399 

against whicli it reacts, — does not reform it. "While the 
Spiritual, repudiating its proper sphere of action, has been 
acquiring secular power, a secular sovereignty has also con- 
solidated itself and attained a. systematic development — the 
Feudal System. As through their isolation, men are reduced 
to a dependence on their individual power and might, every 
point in the world on which a human being can maintain his 
ground becomes an energetic one. "While the Individual still 
remains destitute of the defence of laws and is protected 
only by his own exertion, life, activity and excitement every- 
where manifest themselves. As men are certain of eternal 
salvation through the instrumentality of the Church, 'and to 
this end are bound to obey it only in its spiritual require- 
ments, their ardour in the pursuit of worldly enjoyment 
increases, on the other hand, in inverse proportion to their 
fear, of its producing any detriment to their spiritual weal ; 
for the Church bestows indulgences, when required, for op- 
pressive, violent and vicious actions of all kinds. 

The period from the eleventh to the thirteenth century 
witnessed the rise of an impulse which developed itself in 
various forms. The inhabitants of various districts be- 
gan to build enormous churches — Cathedrals, erected to 
contain the whole community. Architecture is always the 
first art, forming the inorganic phase, the domiciliation of 
the divinity ; not till this is accomplished does Art attempt 
to exhibit to the worshippers the divinity himself — the 
Objective. Maritime commerce was carried on with vigour 
by the cities on the Italian, Spanish, and Flemish coasts, and 
this stimulated the productive industry of their citizens at 
home. The Sciences began in some degree to revive : the 
Scholastic Philosophy was in its glory. Schools for the 
study -of law were founded at Bologna and other places, as 
also for that of medicine. It is on the rise and growing im- 
portance of the Towns, that all these creations depend as 
their main condition ; a favourite subject of historical treat- 
ment in modern times. And the rise of such communities was 
greatly desiderated. For the Towns, like the Church, present 
themselves as reactions against feudal violence — as the ear- 
liest legally and regularly constituted power. Mention has 
already been made of the fact that the possessors of power 
compelled others to put themselves under their protection 



400 PAET IT. THE GERMAN WORLIJ. 

Sucli centres of safety were castles [Burgen], churches and 
monasteries, round which were collected those who needed 
protection. These now became burghers [Biirger], and 
entered into a cliental relation to the lords of such castles or 
to monastic bodies. Thus a firmly established community 
was formed in many places. Many cities and fortified places 
[Castelle] still existed in Italy, in the South of France, and 
in Grermany on the Rhine, which dated their existence from 
the ancient Eoman times, and which originally possessed 
municipal rights, but subsequently lost them under the rule 
of feudal governors [Vogte]. The citizens like their rural 
neighbours had been reduced to vassalage. 

The principle of free possession however began to develop 
itself from the protective relation of feudal protection ; i.e. 

k freedom originated in its direct contrary. The feudal lords 
or great barons enjoyed, properly speaking, no free or ab- 
solute possession, any more than their dependents ; they 
had unlimited power over the latter, but at the same time 
they also were vassals of princes higher and mightier than 
themselves, and to whom they were under engagements — 
which, it must be confessed, they did not fulfil except under 
compulsion. The ancient Grermans had known of none 

( pther than free possession ; but this principle had been 
perverted into its complete opposite, and now for the 
first time we behold the few feeble commencements of 
a reviving sense of freedom. Individuals brought into closer 
relation by the soil which they cultivated, formed among 
themselves a kind of union, confederation, or conjuratio. 
They agreed to be and to perform on their own behalf that 
which they had previously been and performed in the service 
of their feudal lord alone. Their first united undertaking 
was the erection of a tower in which a bell was sus- 
pended : the ringing of the bell was a signal for a general 
rendezvous, and the object of the union thus appointed 
was the formation of. a kind of militia. This is followed 
by the institution of a municipal government, consisting 
of magistrates, jurors, consuls, and the establishment of a 
common treasury, the imposition of taxes, tolls, &c. 
Trenches are dug and walls built for the common de- 
fence, and the citizens are forbidden to erect fortresses 
for themselves individually. In such a community, handi- 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. 401 

crafts, as distinguished from agriculture, find their proper 
home. Artizans necessarily soon attained a superior po- 
sition to that of the tillers of the ground, for the latter 
were forcibly driven to work ; the former displayed activity 
really their own, and a corresponding diligence and in- 
terest in the results of their labours. Formerly artizans 
had been obliged to get permission from their liege lords 
to sell their work, and thus earn something for themselves : 
they were obUged to pay them a certain sum for this 
privilege of market, besides contributing a portion of their 
gains to the baronial exchequer. Those who had houses 
of their own were obhged to pay a considerable quit- 
rent for them ; on all that was imported and exported, 
the nobility imposed large tolls, and for the security 
afforded to travellers they exacted safe-conduct money. 
"When at a later date these communities became stronger, 
all such feudal rights were purchased from the nobles, 
or the cession of them compulsorily extorted : by degrees 
the towns secured an independent jurisdiction and like- 
wise freed themselves from all taxes, tolls and rents. The 
burden which continued the longest was the obligation 
the towns were under to make provision for the Emperor 
and his whole retinue during his stay within their pre- 
cincts, as also for seigneurs of inferior rank under the 
same circumstances. The trading class subsequently di- 
vided itself into guilds, to each of which were attached par- 
ticular rights and obligations. The factions to which 
episcopal elections and other contingencies gave rise, very 
often promoted the attainment by the towns of the rights 
above-mentioned. As it would not unfrequently happen 
that two rival bishops were elected to the same see, each 
one sought to draw the citizens into his own interest, 
by granting them privileges and freeing them from bur- 
dens. Subsequently arose many feuds with the clergy, 
the bishops and abbots. In some towns they maintained 
their position as lords of the municipality ; in others the 
citizens got the upper hand, and obtained their freedom. 
Thus, e.g. Cologne threw off the yoke of its bishop ; May- 
ence on the other hand remained subject. By degrees cities 
grew to be independent republics : first and foremost in 

2d 



402 PAKT IT. THE GERMAN WOKLD. 

Italy, then in the Netherlands, Germany, and France. 
They soon come to occupy a peculiar, position with re- 
spect to the nobility. The latter united itself with the 
corporations of the towns, and constituted as e.g. in Berne, 
a particular guild. It soon assumed special powers in 
the corporations of the towns and attained a dominant 
position ; but the citizens resisted the usurpation and 
secured the government to themselves. The rich citizens 
(populus crassus) now exelud'cd the nobility from power. 
But in the same way as the party of the nolDility was divi- 
ded into factions — especially those of Grhibellines and Guelfs, 
of which the former favoured the Emperor, the latter the 
Pope — that of the citizens also was rent in sunder by in- 
testine strife. The victorious faction was accustomed to 
exclude its vanquished opponents from power. The 
patrician nobility which supplanted the feudal aristocracy, 
deprived the common people of all share in the conduct of 
the state, and thus proved itself no less oppressive than 
the original noblesse. The history of the cities presents 
us with a continual change of constitutions, according as 
one party among the citizens or the other — this faction or 
that, got the upper hand. Originally a select body of citizens 
chose the magistrates ; but as in such elections the victorious 
faction always had the greatest influence, no other means of 
securing impartial functionaries was left, but the election of 
foreigners to the office of judge and fodesta. It also fre- 
quently happened that the cities chose- foreign princes as 
supreme seigneurs, and entrusted them with the signoria. 
But all these arrangements were only of short continuance ; 
the princes soon misused their sovereignty to promote 
their own ambitious designs and to gratify their passions, 
and in a few years were once more deprived of their su- 
premacy. — Thus the history of these cities presents on 
the one hand, in individual characters marked by the most 
terrible or the most admirable features, an astonishingly 
interesting picture ; on the- other hand it repels us by 
assuming, a« it unavoidabty does, the aspeet of mere chro- 
nicles. In contemplating the restless and ever-varying im- 
pulses that agitate the very heart of these cities and the 
continual struggles of factions, we are astonished to see 



SECT. 11. TJIE MIDDLE AGES. 40B 

on the other side industry — commerce by land and sea — 
in the highest degree prosperous. It is the same principle 
of lively vigour, which, nourished by the internal excitement 
in question, produces this phenomenon. 

We have contemplated the Church, which extended its 
power over all the sovereignties of the time, and the Cities, 
where a social organization on a basis of Bight was first re- 
suscitated, as powers reacting against the authority of princes 
and feudal lords. Against these two rising powers, there 
followed a reactionary movement of princely authority ; the 
Emperor now enters on a struggle with the Pope and the 
cities. The Emperor is recognized as the apex of Christian, 
i.e. secular power, the Pope on the other hand as that of 
Ecclesiastical power, which had now however become as de- 
cidedly a secular dominion. In theory, it was not disputed 
that the Eoman Emperor was the Head of Christendom, — 
that he possessed the dominium mundi, — that since all Chris- 
tian states belonged to the Eoman Empire, their princes 
owed him allegiance in all reasonable and equitable req.uire- 
ments. However satisfied the emperors themselves might be 
of the validity of this claim, they had too much good sense to 
attempt seriously to enforce it : but the empty title of Eoman 
Emperor was a suflScient inducement to them to exert 
themselves to the utmost to acquire and maintain it in Italy. 
The Othos especially cherished the i-dea of the continuation 
of the old Eoman empire, and were ever and anon summoning 
the German princes to join them in an expedition to Eome 
with a view to coronation there ; — an undertaking in which 
they were often deserted by them and had to undergo the 
shame of a retreat. Equal disappointment was experienced 
by those Italians who hoped for deliverance at the hands of 
the Emperor from the ochlocracy that domineered over the- 
cities, or from the violence of the feudal nobility ia. the 
country at large. The Italian princes who had. invoked the 
presence of the Emperor and had promised him aid in assert- 
ing his claims^ drew back and left him in the lurch ; and 
those who had previously expected salvation for their coun- 
try, then broke out into bitter complaints that their beaur 
tiful country was devastated by barbarians, their superior 
civilization trodden under foot, and that right and liberty, 
deserted, by the Emperor^ must also perish. Especially 

2*d2' 



§104 PART IV. THE QERMATf WORLD. 

touching and deep are the lamentations and reproaches which 
Dante addresses to the Emperors. * 

The second complication with Italy was that struggle which 
contemporaneously with the former was sustained chiefly by 
the great Swabians — the house of Hohenstaufen — and whose 
object was to bring back the secular power of the Church, 
wliich had become independent, to its original dependence 
on the state. The Papal See was also a secular power and 
sovereignty, and the Emperor asserted the superior prerogar 
tive of choosing the Pope and investing him with his secular 
sovereignty. It was these rights of the State for which the 
Emperors contended. But to that secular power which they 
withstood, they were at the same time subject, in virtue of 
its spiritual pretensions ; thus the contest was an intermin- 
able contradiction. Contradictory as the varying phases of 
the contest, in which reconciliation was ever alternating with 
renewed hostilities, was also the instrumentality employed 
in the struggle. For the power with which the Emperors 
made head against their enemy— -the princes, their servants 
and subjects, were divided in their own minds, inasmuch as 
they were bound by the strongest ties of allegiance to the 
Emperor and to his enemy at one and the same time. The 
chief interest of the princes lay in that very assumption of 
independence in reference to the State, against which on 
the part of the Papal See the Emperor was contending ; so 
that they were willing to stand by the Emperor in cases where 
the empty dignity of the imperial crown was impugned, or on 
some particular occasions, — e.g. in a contest with the cities, 
— but abandoned him when he aimed at seriously asserting 
liis authority against the secular power of the clergy, or 
against other princes. 

As, on the one hand, the German emperors sought to 
realize their title in Italy, so, on the other hand, Italy had its 
political centre in Germany. The interest of the two coun- 
tries were thus linked together, and neither could gain poli- 
tical consolidation within itself. In the brilliant period of 
the HoJienstaufen dynasty, individuals of commanding cha- 
racter sustained the dignity of the throne ; — sovereigns like 
Frederick Barbarossa, in whom the imperial power mani- 
fested itself in its greatest majesty, and who by his personal 
qualities succeeded in attaching the subject princes to his 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. — THE CRUSADES. 405 

interests. Yet brilliant as the history of the Hohenstaufen 
dynasty may appear, and stirring as might have been the 
contest with the Church, the former presents on the whole 
nothing more than the tragedy of this house itself, and the 
latter had no important result in the sphere of Spirit. The 
cities were indeed compelled to acknowledge the imperial 
authority, and their deputies swore to observe the decisions 
of the Eonealian Diet ; but they kept their word no longer 
than they were compelled to do so. Their sense of obliga- 
tion depended exclusively on the direct consciousness of a 
superior power ready to enforce it. It is said that when the 
Emperor Frederick I. asked the deputies of the cities whether 
they had not sworn to the conditions of peace, they answer- 
ed : '* Tes, but not that we would observe them." The re- 
sult was that Frederick I. at the Peace of Constance (1] 83) 
was obliged to concede to them a virtual independence ; al- 
though he appended the stipulation, that in this concession 
their feudal obligations to the Grerman Empire were under- 
stood to be reserved. The contest between the Emperors 
and the Popes regarding investitures was settled at the close 
of 1122 by Henry Y. and Pope Calixtus II. on these terms : 
the Emperor was to invest with the sceptre ; the Pope with 
the ring and crosier ; the chapter were to elect the Bishops 
in the presence of the Emperor or of imperial commissioners ; 
then the Emperor was to invest the Bishop as a secular feu- 
datory with the temporalia, while the ecclesiastical investiture 
was reserved for the Pope. Thus the protracted contest 
between the secular and spiritual powers was at length set 
at rest. 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE CRUSADES. 



The Church gained the victory in the struggle referred to 
in the previous chapter ; and in this way secured as decided 
a supremacy in Grermany, as she did in the other states of 
Europe by a calmer process. She made herself mistress of 
all the relations of life, and of science and art ; and she was 



406 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

the permanent repository of spiritual treasures. Yet not- 
withstanding this full and complete development of ecclesias- 
tical life, we find a deficiency and consequent craving mani- 
festing itself in Christendom, and which drove it out of itself. 
To understand this want, we must revert to the nature of 
the Christian religion itself, and particularly to that aspect 
jf it by which it has a footing in the Present in the con- 
sciousness of its votaries. 

The objective doctrines of Christianity had been already so 
firmly settled by the Councils of the Church, that neither 
the mediaeval nor any other philosophy could develope them 
further, except in the way of exalting them intellectually, so 
that they might be satisfactory as presenting the form of 
Thought. And one essential point in this doctrine was the 
recognition of the Divine Nature as not in any sense an 
other-world existence [ein Jenseits], but as in unity with 
Human Nature in the Present and Actual. But this Presence 
is at the same time exclusively Spiritual Presence. Christ 
as a particular human personality has left the world ; his 
temporal existence is only a past one — i.e., it exists only in 
mental conception. And since the Divine existence on earth 
is essentially of a spiritual character, it cannot appear in the 
form of a Dalai-Lama. The Pope, however high his position 
as Head of Christendom and Vicar of Christ, calls himself 
only the Servant of Servants. How then did the Church 
realize Christ as a definite and present eocistence? The prin- 
cipal form of this realization was, as remarked above, the 
Holy Supper, in the form it presented as the Mass : in this 
the Life, Suff"ering, and Death of the actual Christ was 
verily present, as an eternal and daily repeated sacrifice. 
Christ appears as. a definite and present existence in a 
sensuous form as the Host, consecrated by the Priest ; so 
far all is satisfactory : that is to say, it is the Church, the 
Spirit of Christ, that attains in this ordinance direct and full 
assurance. But the most prominent feature in this sacra- 
ment is, that the process by which Deity is manifested, is 
conditioned by the limitations of particularity — that the 
Host, this Thing, is set up to be adored as Grod. Tlie 
Church then might have been able to content itself with this 
sensuous presence of Deity ; ^:ut when it is once granted 
that God exists in external phenomenal presence, this ex- 



SECT. II. TKE MIDDLE AGES. — THE CRUSADES. 407 

iernal manifestation immediately becomes infinitely varied ; 
for the need of this presence is infinite. Thus innumerable 
instances will occur in the experience of the Church, in 
which Christ has appeared to one and another, in various 
places ; and still more frequently his divine Mother, who as 
standing nearer to humanity, is a second mediator between 
the Mediator and man (the miracl-e-working images of the 
Virgin are in their way Hosts, since they supply a benign 
and gracious presence of Grod). In all places, therefore, 
there will occur manifestations of the Heavenly, in specially 
gracious appearances, the stigmata of Christ's Passion, &c. ; 
and the Divine will be realized in miracles a« detached -and 
isolated phenomena. In the period in question the Church, 
presents the aspect of a world of miracle ; to the community 
of devout and pious persons natural existence has utterly 
lost its stability a«d certainty: rather, absolute certainty 
has turned against it, and the Divine is not conceived of 
by Christendom under conditions of universality as the law 
and nature of Spirit, but reveals itself in isolated and de- 
tached phenomena, in which the rational form of existence 
is utterly perverted. 

In this complete development of the Church, we may find 
a deficiency : but what can be felt as a want by it ? What 
compels it, in this state of perfect satisfaction and enjoy- 
ment, to wish for something else within the limits of its own 
principles —without apostatizing from itself? Those mira- 
culous images, places, and times, are only isolated points, 
momentary appearances, — are not an embodiment of Deity, 
not of the highest and absolute kind. The Host, the supreme 
manifestation, is to be found indeed in innumerable churches; 
Christ is therein transubstantiated to a present and parti- 
cular existence : but this itself is of a vague and general 
character ; it is not his actual and very presence as particu- 
larized in B'pace. That presence has passed away, as regards 
time ; but as spatial and as concrete in s;pace it has a mundane 
permanence in this particular spot, this particular village, &c. 
It is then this mundane existence [in Palestine] which 
Christendom desiderates, which it is resolved on attaining. 
Pilgrims in crowds had indeed been able to enjoy it ; but 
the approach to the hallowed localities is in the hands of the 
Infidels, and it is a reproach to Christendom that the Holy 



408 PART IV. THE GEUMAK WORLD. 

Places and the Sepulchre of Christ in particular are not in 
possession of the Church. In this feeling Christendom was 
united ; consequently the Crusades were undertaken, whoso 
object was not the furtherance of any special interests on 
the part of the several states that engaged in them, but 
simply and solely the conquest of the Holy Land. 

The West once more sallied forth in hostile array against 
the East. As in the expedition of the G-reeks against Troy, 
BO here, the invading hosts were entirely composed of inde- 
pendent feudal lords and knights ; though they were not 
united under a real individuality, as were the Greeks under 
Agamemnon or Alexander. Christendom, on the contrary, 
was engaged in an undertaking whose object was the securing 
of the definite and 'present existence [of Deity] — the real 
culmination of Individuality. This object impelled the West 
against the East, and this is the essential interest of the 
Crusades. 

The first and immediate commencement of the Crusades 
was made in the West itself. Many thousands of Jews were 
massacred, and their property seized ; and after this terrible 
prelude Christendom began its march. The monk, Peter 
the Hermit of Amiens, led the way with an immense troop 
of rabble. This host passed in the greatest disorder through 
Hungary, and robbed and plundered as they went ; but their 
numbers dwindled away, and only a few reached Constantinople. 
For rational considerations were out of the question ; the mass 
of them believed that God would be their immediate guide and 
protector. The most striking proof that enthusiasm almost 
robbed the nations of Europe of their senses, is supplied by 
the fact that at a later time troops of children ran away from 
their parents, and went to Marseilles, there to take ship for 
the Holy Land. Eew reached it ; the rest were sold by the 
merchants to the Saracens as slaves. 

At last, with much trouble and immense loss, more regular 
armies attained the desired object ; they beheld themselves 
in possession of all the Holy Places of note — Bethlehem, 
Gethsemane, Golgotha, and even the Holy Sepulchre. In 
the whole expedition, — in all the acts of the Christians, — 
appeared that enormous contrast (a feature characteristic of 
the age)— the transition on the part of the Crusading host 
from the greatest excesses and outrages to the profoundest 



"SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. — THE CRUSADES. 409 

contrition and humiliation. Still dripping with the blood of 
the slaughtered inhabitants of Jerusalem, the Christians fell 
down on their faces at the tomb of the Redeemer, and di- 
rected their fervent supplications to him. 

Thus did Christendom come into the possession of its 
highest good. Jerusalem was made a kingdom, and the 
entire feudal system was introduced there — a constitution 
which, in presence of the Saracens, was certainly the worst 
that could be adopted. Another crusade in the year 1204 
resulted in the conquest of Constantinople and the estab- 
lishment of a Latin Empire there. Christendom, therefore, 
had appeased its religious craving ; it could now veritably 
Walk unobstructed in the footsteps of the Saviour. Whole 
shiploads of earth were brought from the Holy Land to 
Europe. Of Christ himself no corporeal relics could be 
obtained, for he was arisen : the Sacred Handkerchief, the 
Cross, and lastly the Sepulchre, were the most venerated 
memorials. But in the Grrave is found the real point of 
retroversion ; it is in the grave that all the vanity of the 
Sensuous perishes. At the Holy Sepulchre the vanity of 
[the cherished] opinion passes away [the fancies by which 
the substance of truth has been obscured disappear] ; there 
all is seriousness. In the negation of that definite and pre" 
sent embodiment — i.e. of the Sensuous — it is that the turning- 
point in question is found, and those words have an ap- 
plication : " Thou wouldst not suffer thy Holy One to see 
corruption." Christendom was not to find its ultimatum 
of truth in the grave. At this sepulchre the Christian 
world received a second time the response given to the 
disciples when they sought the body of the Lord there : 
" Why seek ye the living among the dead? He is not here, 
hut is risen. ^^ You must not look for the principle of your 
religion in the Sensuous, in the grave among the dead, but 
in the living Spirit in yourselves. We have seen how the 
vast idea of the union of the Einite with the Infinite was 
perverted to such a degree as that men looked for a definite 
embodiment of the Infinite in a mere isolated outward object 
[the Host]. Christendom found the empty Sepulchre, but 
not the union of the Secular and the Eternal ; and so it lost 
the Holy Land. It was. practically undeceived; and the 
result which it brought back with it was of a negative kind : 



410 PART IV. THE GERMAN" WOULD. 

VIZ., that the definite embodiment which it was seeking, was 
to be looked for in Subjective Consciousness alone, and in no 
external object; that the definite form in question, presenting 
the union of the Secular with the Eternal, is the Spiritual 
self-cognizant independence of the individual. Thus the 
world attains the conviction that man must look within him- 
self for that definite embodiment of being which is of a divine 
nature : subjectivity thereby receives absolute authorization, 
and claims to determine for itself the relation [of all that 
exists] to the Divine.* This then was the absolute result of 
the Crusades, and from them we may date the commencement 
of self-reliance and spontaneous activity. The West bade 
an eternal farewell to the East at the Holy Sepulchre, and 
gained a comprehension of its own principle of subjective 
infinite Freedom. Christendom never appeared again on 
the scene of history as one body. 

Crusades of another kind, bearing somewhat the character 
of wars with a view to mere secular conquest, but which 
imvolved a religious interest also, were the contests waged 
by Spain against the Saracens in the peninsula itself. The 
Christians had been shut up in a corner by the Arabs ; but 
they gained upon their adversaries in strength, because the 
Saracens in Spain and Africa were engaged in war in 
various directions, and were divided among themselves. The 
Spaniards, united with Frank knights, undertook frequent 
expeditions against the Saracens ; and in this collision of the 
Christians with the chivalry of the East — with its freedom 
and perfect independence of soul — the former became also 
partakers in this freedom. Spain gives us the fairest pic- 
ture of the knighthood of the Middle Ages, and its hero is 
the Cid. Several Crusades, the records of which excite our 
unmixed loathing and detestation, were undertaken against 
the South of France also. There an aesthetic culture had de- 
veloped itself: the Troubadours had introduced a freedom of 
manners similar to that which prevailed under the Hohen- 
staufen Emperors in Grermauy ; but with this difference, that 
the former had in it something aftected, while the latter was of 
a more genuine kind. But as in Upper Italy, so also in the 

• All human actions, projects, institutions, &c. begin to be brought to 
the bar of " principle " — the sanctum of subjectivity — for absolute decision 
on their merits, instead of being referred to an extraneous authority. — Tr 



SECT. II. THE MIDDLE AGES. — THE CRUSADES. 411 

South of France fanatical ideas of purity had been intro- 
duced;* a Crusade was therefore preached against that 
country by Papal authority. St. Dominic entered it with 
a vast host of invaders, who, in the most barbarous manner, 
pillaged and murdered the innocent and the guilty indis- 
criminately, and utterly laid waste the fair region which they 

inhabited. , -, , , i -• 

Through the Crusades the Church reached the completion 
of its authority : it had achieved the perversion of religion 
and of the divine Spirit ; it had distorted the principle of 
Christian Freedom to a wrongful and immoral slavery of 
men's souls ; and in so doing, far from abohshing lawless 
caprice and violence and supplanting them by a virtuous 
rule of its own, it had even enlisted them m the service 
of ecclesiastical authority. In the Crusades the Pope stood 
at the head of the secular power : the Emperor appeared 
only in a subordinate position, like the other princes, and 
was obliged to commit both the initiative and the executive 
to the Pope, as the manifest generalissimo of the expedition. 
We have already seen the noble house of Hohenstaufen 
presenting the aspect of chivalrous, dignified and cultivated 
opponents of the Papal power, when Spirit [the moral and 
intellectual element in Christendom] had given up the 
contest. We have seen how they were ultimately obliged 
to yield to the Church ; which, elastic enough to sustain any 
attack, bore down all opposition and would not move a step 
towards conciliation. The fall of the Church was not to be 
effected by open violence ; it wa« from within,— by the power 
of Spirit and by an influence that wrought its way upwards,— 
that ruin threatened it. Eespect for the Papacy could not 
but be weakened by the very fact that the lofty aim of the 
Crusades— the satisfaction expected from the enjoyment of 
the sensuous Presence— was not attained. As little did the 
Popes succeed in keeping possession of the Holy Land. 
Zeal for the holy cause was exhausted among the princes ot 
Europe. Grieved to the heart by the defeat of the Chris- 
tians, the Popes again and again urged them to advance to 
the rescue ; but lamentations and entreaties were vam, and 

* The term *' Cathari" [KaStapoi) Purists, was one of the most general 
designations of the dissident sect* in question. The Gtirman word 
*' Ketzer "=?ier€tic is by some derived fivsm it. — Tb. 



412 PAET IT. THE GERMAN WOELD. 

they could effect nothing. Spirit, disappointed with regard 
to its craving for the highest form of the sensuous presence 
of Deity, fell back upon itself. A rupture, the first of its 
kind and profound as it was novel, took place. Erom this 
time forward we witness religious and intellectual move- 
ments in which Spirit, — transcending the repulsive and irra- 
tional existence by which it is surrounded, — either finds its 
sphere of exercise within itself, and draws upon its own re- 
sources for satisfaction, or throws its energies into an actual 
world of general and morally justified aims, which are 
therefore aims consonant with Freedom. The efforts thus 
originated are now to be described : they were the means by 
which Spirit was to be prepared to comprehend the grand 
purpose of its Preedom in a form of greater purity and moral 
elevation. 

To this class of movements belongs in the first place the 
establishment of monastic and chi^alric orders, designed to 
carry out those rules of life which the Church had distinctly 
enjoined upon its members. That renunciation of property, 
riches, pleasures, and free will, which the Church had desig- 
nated as the highest of spiritual attainments, was to be a 
reality — not a mere profession. The existing monastic and 
other institutions that had adopted this vow of renunciation, 
had been entirely sunk in the corruption of worldhness. But 
now Spirit sought to realize in the sphere of the principle of 
negativity — purely in itself — what the Church had demanded. 
The more immediate occasion of this movement was the rise 
of numerous heresies in the South of France and Italy, whose 
tendency was in the direction of enthusiasm ; and the un- 
belief which was now gaining ground, but which the Church 
justly deemed not so dangerous as those heresies. To counter- 
act these evils, new monastic orders were founded, the chief 
of which was that of the Franciscans, or Mendicant Friai\«, 
w^hose founder, St. Francis of Assisi, — a man possessed by 
an enthusiasm and extatic passion that passed all bounds, — 
spent his life in continually striving for the loftiest purity. 
He gave an impulse of the same kind to his order ; the great- 
est ferv^our of devotion, the saciifice of all pleasures in con- 
travention of the prevailing worldliness of the Church, con- 
tinual penances, the severest poverty (the Franciscans lived 
on daily alms) — were therefore peculiarly characteristic of it. 



SECT. IT. THE MIDDLE AGES.— THE CEUSADES. 413 

Contemporaneously with it arose the Dominican order, 
founded by St. Dominic ; its special business was preaching. 
The mendicant friars were diffused through Christendom to 
an incredible extent ; they were, on the one hand, the stand- 
ing apostolic army of the Pope, while, on the other hand, they 
strongly protested against his worldliness. The Franciscans 
were powerful allies of Louis of Bavaria in his resistance of 
the Papal assumptions, and they are said to have been the 
authors of the position, that a Greneral Council was higher 
authority than the Pope ; but subsequently they too sank 
down into a torpid and unintelligent condition. In the same 
way the ecclesiastical Orders of Knighthood contemplated 
the attainment of purity of Spirit. We have already called 
attention to the peculiar chivalric spirit which had been 
developed in Spain through the struggle with the Saracens : 
the same spirit was diffused as the result of the Crusades 
through the whole of Europe. The ferocity and savage 
valour that characterized the predatory life of the barbarians 
— pacified and brought to a settled state by possession, and 
restrained by the presence of equals — was elevated by reli- 
gion and then kindled to a noble enthusiasm through con- 
templating the boundless magnanimity of Oriental prowess. 
Por Christianity also contains the element of boundless ab- 
straction and freedom ; the Oriental chivalric spirit found 
therefore in Occidental hearts a response, which paved the 
way for their attaining a nobler virtue than they had pre- 
viously known. Ecclesiastical orders of knighthood were in- 
stituted on a basis resembling that of the monastic fraterni- 
ties. The same conventual vow of renunciation was imposed 
on their members — the giving np of all that was worldly. But 
at the same time they undertook the defence of the pilgrims : 
their first duty therefore was knightly bravery ; ultimately, 
they were also pledged to the sustenance and care of the 
poor and the sick. The Orders of Knighthood were divided 
into three : that of St. John, that of the Temple, and the 
Teutonic Order. These associations are essentially distin- 
guished from the self-seeking principle of feudalism. Their 
members sacrificed themselves with almost suicidal bravery 
for a common interest. Thus these Orders transcended 
the circle of their immediate environment, and formed a 
network of fraternal coalition over the whole of Europe. 



414 PAET IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

But their members sank down to the le^el of vulgar interests, 
and the Orders became in the sequel a provisional institute 
for the nobility generally, rather than anything else. The 
Order of the Temple was even accused of forming a religion 
of its own, and of having renounced Christ in the creed which, 
under the influence of the Oriental Spirit, it had adopted. 

A second impulsion, having a similar origin, was that in 
the direction of Science. The development of Thought — the 
abstractly Universal — now had its commencement. Those 
fraternal associations themselves, having a common object, 
in whose service their members were enlisted, point to the 
fact that a general principle was beginning to be recognized, 
and which gradually became conscious of its power. Thought 
was first directed to Theology,, which now became Philosophy 
under the name of Scholastic Divinity. For philosophy and 
theology have the Divine as their common object ; and 
although the theology of the Church was a stereotyped 
dogma, the impulse now arose to justify this body of doc- 
trine in the view of Thought. *' When we have arrived at 
Faith," says the celebrated scholastic, Anselm, "it is a piece 
of negligence to stop short of convincing ourselves, by the 
aid of Thought, of that to which we have given credence." 
But thus conditioned Thought was not free, for its material 
was already posited ab extra : it was to the proof of this ma- 
terial that philosophy devoted its energies. But Thought sug- 
gested a variety of questions, the complete answer to which 
was not given directly in the symbols of the Church ; and 
since the Church had not decided respecting them, they 
were legitimate subjects of controversy. Philosophy was 
indeed called an ancillafideiy. for it was in subjection to that 
material of the Church's creed, which had been already 
definitely settled ; but yet it was impossible for the oppo- 
sition between Thought and Belief not to manifest itself. 
As Europe presented the spectacle of chivalric contests 
generally — passages of arms and tournaments — it was now 
the theatre for intellectual jousting also. It is incredible to 
what an extent the abstract forms of Thought were developed, 
and what dexterity was acquired in the use of them. This 
intellectual tourneying for the sake of exhibiting skill, and 
as a diversion (for it was not the doctrines themselves, but 
only the forms in which they were couched that made the 



SECT. II. MIDDLE AGES.— TKANSITIOlf TO MONARCHY. 415 

subject of debate), was chiefly prosecuted and brought to 
perfection in France. Prance, in fact, began at that time to 
be regarded as the centre of Christendom: there the scheme 
of the first Crusades originated, and French armies carried 
it out : there the Popes took refuge in their struggles with 
the German emperors and with the Norman princes of 
Naples and Sicily, and there for a time they made a con- 
tinuous sojourn. — We also observe in the period subsequent 
to the Crusades, commencements of Art — of Painting, viz. : 
even during their continuance a peculiar kind of poetry had 
made its appearance. Spirit, unable to satisfy its cravings, 
created for itself by imagination fairer forms and in a calmer 
and freer manner than the actual world could offer. 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE TRANSITION FROM FEUDALISM TO MONARCHY. 

The moral phenomena above mentioned, tending in the 
direction of a general principle, were partly of a subjective, 
partly of a speculative order. But we must now give par- 
ticular attention to the practical political movements of the 
period. The advance which that period witnessed, presents 
a negative aspect in so far as it involves the termination of 
the sway of individual caprice and of the isolation of power. 
Its affirmative aspect is the rise- of a supreme authority 
whose dominion embraces all — a political power properly 
so called, whose subjects enjoy an equality of rights, and 
in which the will of the individual is subordinated to 
that common interest which underlies the whole. This is 
the advance from Feudalism to Monarchy . The principle of 
feudal sovereignty is the outward force of individuals-^ 
princes, liege lords ; it is a force destitute of intrinsie right. 
The subjects of such a Constitution are vassals of a superior 
prince or seigneur, to whom they have stipulated duties to 
perform : but whether they perform these duties or not, 
depends upon the seigneur's being able ta induce them so to 
do, by force of character or by grant of favours : — con- 
versely, the recognition of those feudal claims themselves was 
extorted by violence in the first instance ;. and the fulfilment 



416 PAET IT. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

of the corresponding duties could be secured only by the 
constant exercise of the power which was the sole basis of 
the claims in question. The monarchical principle also im- 
plies a supreme authority, but it is an authority over persons 
possessing no independent power to support their individual 
caprice; where we have no longer caprice opposed to caprice ; 
for the supremacy implied in monarchy is essentially a power 
emanating from a political body, and is pledged to the fur- 
therance of that equitable purpose on which the constitution 
of a state is based. Peudal sovereignty is a polyarchy : we 
see nothing but Lords and Serfs ; in Monarchy, on the con- 
trary, there is one Lord and no Serf, for servitude is abro- 
gated by it, and in it Eight and Law are recognized ; it is 
the source of real freedom. Thus in monarchy the caprice 
of individuals is kept under, and a common gubernatorial 
interest established. In the suppression of those isolated 
powers, as also in the resistance made to that suppression, 
it seems doubtful whether the desire for a lawful and 
equitable state of things, or the wish to indulge individual 
caprice, is the impelling motive. Besistance to kingly 
authority is entitled Liberty, and is lauded as legitimate and 
noble when the idea of arbitrary will is associated with that 
authority. But by the arbitrary will of an individual exert- 
ing itself so as to subjugate a whole body of men, a com- 
munity is formed ; and comparing this state of things with 
tliat in which every point is a centre of capricious violence, 
we hnd a much smaller number of points exposed to such 
violence. The great extent of such a sovereignty necessi- 
tates general arrangements for the purposes of organization, 
and those who govern in accordance with those arrange- 
ments are at the same time, in virtue of their office itself, 
obedient to the state : Vassals become Officers of State, 
■whose duty it is to execute the laws by which the state is 
regulated. But since this monarchy is developed from feu- 
dalism, it bears in the first instance the stamp of the system 
from which it sprang. Individuals quit their isolated capa- 
city and become members of Estates [or Orders of the 
Eealm] and Corporations ; the vassals are powerful only by 
combination as an Order ; in contraposition to them the cities 
constitute Powers in virtue of their communal existence. 
Thus the authority of the sovereign inevitably ceases to be 



S^CT. 11. MIDDLE AGES. — TEANSITION TO MOKAECHT. 417 

mere arbitrary sway. The consent of the Estates and Cor- 
porations is essential to its maintenance ; and if the prince 
wishes to have that consent, he must will what is just and 
reasonable. 

"We now see a Constitution embracing various Orders, 
while Feudal rule knows no such Orders. AVe observe the 
transition from feudalism to monarchy taking place in three 
ways : 

1. Sometimes the lord paramount gains a mastery over 
his independent vassals, by subjugating their individual 
power, — thus making himself sole ruler. 

2. Sometimes the princes free themselves from the feudal 
relation altogether, and become the territorial lords of 
certain states ; or lastly 

3. The lord paramount unites the particular lordships 
that own him as their superior, with his own particular 
suzerainty, in a more peaceful way, and thus becomes master 
of the whole. 

These processes do not indeed present themselves iu 
history in that pure and abstract form in which they are 
exhibited here : often we find more modes than one appear- 
ing contemporaneously ; but one or the other always pre- 
dominates. The cardinal consideration is that the basis and 
essential condition of such a political formation is to be 
looked for in the particular nationalities in which it had 
its birth. Europe presents particular nations, constituting 
a unity in their very nature, and having the absolute ten- 
dency to form a state. All did not succeed in attaining 
this political unity : we have now to consider them severally 
in relation'to the change thus introduced. . 

First, as regards the Eoman empire, the connection 
between Germany and Italy naturally results from the idea 
of that empire: the secular dominion united with the 
spiritual was to constitute one whole ; ■ but this state of 
things was rather the object of constant struggle tlian one 
actually attained. In Grermany and Italy the transition from 
the feudal condition to monarchy involved the entire abro- 
gation of the former : the vassals became independent 
monarchs. 

Germany had always embraced a great variety of stocks : — 
Swabians, Bavarians, Franks, Tburingians, Saxons, Burguii-^ 

2 E 



418 PAET IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD. 

dians : to these must be added the Sclaves of Bohemia, Ger- 
manized Selaves in Mecklenburg, in Brandenburg, and in a 
part of Saxony and Austria ; so that no such combination as 
took place in France was possible. Italy presented a similar 
state of things. The Lombards had established themselves 
there, while the Greeks still possessed the Exarchate and 
Lower Italy : the JS^ormans too established a kingdom of 
their own in Lower Italy, and the Saracens maintained their 
ground for a time in Sicily. When the rule of the house of 
Hohenstaufen was terminated, barbarism got the upper 
hand throughout Germany ; the country being broken up 
into several sovereignties, in which a forceful despotism pre- 
vailed. It was the maxim of the electoral princes to raise 
only weak princes to the imperial throne ; they even sold 
the imperial dignity to foreigners. Thus the unity of the 
state was virtually annulled. A number of centres of power 
were formed, each of which was a predatory state : the legal 
constitution recognized by feudalism was dissolved, and gave 
place to undisguised violence and plunder; and powerful 
princes made themselves lords of the country. After the 
interregnum the Count of Hapsburg was elected Emperor, 
and the House of Hapsburg continued to fill the imperial 
throne with but little interruption. These emperors were 
obliged to create a force of their own, as the princes would 
not grant them an adequate power attached to the empire. 
But that state of absolute anarchy was at last put an end to 
by associations having general aims in view. In the cities 
themselves we see associations of a minor order ; but now 
ccv federations of cities were formed with a common interest 
in the suppression of predatory violence. Of this kind was 
the Hanseatic League in the North, the Bhenish League 
consisting of cities lying along the Ehine, and the Swabian 
League. The aim of all these confederations was resistance 
to the feudal lords.; and even princes united with the cities, 
with a view to the subversion of the feudal condition and 
the restoration of a peaceful state of things throughout the 
country. What the state of society was under feudal sove- 
reignty is evident from the notorious association formed for 
executing criminal justice : it was a private tribunal, which, 
under the name of the Vehmgericht, held secret sittings; its 
chi«i seat was the north-west of Germany. A peculiar 



SECT. II. MjiDDLE ages. — TRANSITION TO MONARCHY. 419 

peasant association was also formed. In Grermanj the 
peasants were bondmen ; many of them took refuge in the 
towns, or settled down as freemen in the neighbourhood of 
the towns (Pfahlbilrger) ; but in Switzerland a peasant 
fraternity was established. The peasants of TJri, Schwyz, 
and Unterwalden were under imperial governors ; for the 
Swiss governments were not the property of private pos- 
sessors, but were official appointments of the Empire. These 
the sovereigns of the Hapsburg line wished to secure to their 
own house. The peasants, with club and iron-studded mace 
[Morgenstern], returned victorious from a contest with the 
haughty steel-clad nobles, armed with spear and sword, and 
practised in the chivalric encounters of the tournament. 
Another invention also tended to deprive the nobility of the 
ascendancy which they owed to their accoutrements, — that of 
gunpowder. Humanity needed it, and it made its appear- 
ance forthwith. It was one of the chief instruments in freeing 
the world from the dominion of physical force, and placing 
the various orders of society on a level. With the distinc- 
tion between the weapons they used, vanished also that 
between lords and serfs. And before gunpowder fortifiedplaces 
were no longer impregnable, so that strongholds and castles 
now lose their importance. "We may indeed be led to lament 
the decay or the depreciation of the practical value of per- 
sonal valour — the bravest, the noblest may be shot down 
by a cowardly wretch at safe distance in an obscure lurking 
place ; but, on the other hand, gunpowder has made a 
rational, considerate bravery — Spiritual valour — the essential 
to martial success. Only through this instrumentality 
could that superior order of valour be called forth — that 
valour in which the heat of personal feeling has no share ; 
for the discharge of fire-arms is directed against a body of 
men — an abstract enemy, not individual combatants. The 
warrior goes to meet deadly peril calmly, sacrificing himself 
for the common weal ; and the valour of cultivated nations is 
characterized by the very fact, that it does not rely on the 
strong arm alone, but places its confidence essentially in the 
intelligence, the generalship, the character of its commanders j 
and, as was the case among the ancients, in a firm com- 
bination and unity of spirit on the part of the forces they 
command. 

2 E 2 



420 PAKT IV. THE GEEMAN WORlD. 

In Italy, as already noticed, we behold the same spectacle 
as ill Germany — the attainment of an independent position 
by isolated centres of power. In that country, warfare in 
the hands of the Condottieri became a regular business. 
The towns were obliged to attend to their trading concerns, 
and therefore employed mercenary troops, whose leaders 
often became feudal lords ; Francis Sforza even made himself 
Duke of Milan. In Florence, the Medici, a family of mer- 
chants, rose to power. On the other hand, the larger cities 
of Italy reduced under their sway several smaller ones and 
many feudal chiefs. A Papal territory was likewise formed. 
There, also, a very large number of feudal lords had made 
themselves independent ; by degrees they all became sub- 
ject to the one sovereignty of the Pope. How thoroughly 
equitable in the view of social morality such a subjuga- 
tion was, is evident from Machiavelli's celebrated work 
"The Prince." This book has often been thrown aside in 
disgust, as replete with the maxims of the most revolting 
tyranny ; but nothing worse can be urged against it than 
that the writer, having the profound consciousness of the 
necessity for the formation of a State, has here exhibited the 
principles on which alone states could be founded in the cir- 
cumstances of the times. The chiefs who asserted an isolated 
independence, and the power they arrogated, must be entirely 
subdued ; and though we cannot reconcile with our idea of 
Freedom ,the means which he proposes as the only efficient ones, 
and regards as perfectly justifiable — inasmuch as they involve 
the most reckless violence, all kinds of deception, assassina- 
tion, and so forth — we must nevertheless confess that the 
feudal nobility, whose power was to be subdued, were assail- 
able in no other way, since an indomitable contempt for 
principle, and an utter depravity of morals, were thoroughly 
engrained in them. 

In France we find the converse of that which occurred in 
Germany and Italy. For many centuries the Kings of 
France possessed only a very small domain, so that many of 
their vassals were more powerful than themselves : but it 
was a great advantage to the royal dignity in France, that 
the priuciple of hereditary monarchy was firmly established 
there. The consideration it enjoyed was increased by the 
circumstance that the corporations and cities had their rights 



SECT. II. MIDDLE AGES. — TEANStTION TO MONAECHT. 421 

and privileges confirmed by the king, and that the appeals to 
the supreme feudal tribunal — the Court of Peers, consisting of 
twelve members enjoying that dignity — became increasingly 
frequent. The king's influence was extended by his afford- 
ing that protection which only the throne could give. But 
that which essentially secured respect for royalty, even 
among the powerful vassals, was the increasing personal 
power of the sovereign. In various ways, by inheritance, 
by marriage, by force of arms, &c., the Kings had come into 
possession of many Earldoms [Grafschaften] and several 
Duchies. The Dukes of Normandy had, however, become 
Kings of England ; and thus a formidable power confronted 
Erance, whose interior lay open to it by way of Normandy. 
Besides this there were powerful Duchies still remaining ; 
nevertheless, the King was not a mere feudal suzerain 
[Lehnsherr] like the German Emperors, but had become a 
territorial possessor [Landesherr] : he had a number of 
barons and cities under him, who were subject to his imme- 
diate jurisdiction ; and Louis IX. succeeded in rendering 
appeals to the royal tribunal common throughout his king- 
dom. The towns attained a position of greater importance 
in the state. Eor when the king needed money, and all his 
usual resources — such as taxes and forced contributions of all 
kinds — were exhausted, he made application to the towns and 
entered into separate negociations with them. It was Phi- 
lip the Eair who, in the year 1302, first convoked the depu- 
ties of the towns as a Third Estate in conjunction with the 
clergy and the barons. All indeed that they were in the 
first instance concerned with was the authority of the sove- 
reign as the power that had convoked them, and the raising 
of taxes as the object of their convocation ; but the States 
nevertheless secured an importance and weight in the king- 
dom, and as the natural result, an influence on legislation 
also. A fact which is particularly remarkable is the pro- 
clamation issued by the kings of Erance, giving permission 
to the bondsmen on the crown lands to purchase their free- 
dom at a moderate price. In the way we have indicated the 
kings of Erance very soon attained great power ; while the 
flourishing state of the poetic art in the hands of the Trouba- 
dourti, and the growth of the scholastic theology, whose es- 
pecial centre was Paris, gave Erance a culture superior to 



422 PART IV. THE GEEMA.N WORLD. 

that of the other European states, and which secured the 
respect of foreign nations. 

England, as we have already had occasion to mention, was 
subjugated by "William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy. 
William introduced the feudal system into it, and divided 
the kingdom into fiefs, which he granted almost exclusively 
to his Norman followers. He himself retained considerable 
crown possessions ; the vassals were under obligation to 
perform service in the field, and to aid in administering jus- 
tice : the King was the guardian of all vassals under age ; 
they could not marry without his consent. Only by degrees 
did the barons and the towns attain a position of importance. 
It was especially in the disputes and struggles for the throne 
that they acquired considerable weight. When the oppres- 
sive rule and fiscal exactions of the Kings became intolerable, 
contentions and even war ensued : the barons compelled 
King John to swear to Magna Charta, the basis of English 
liberty, i. e. more particularly of the privileges of the no- 
bility. Among the liberties thus secured, that which con- 
cerns the administration of justice was the chief: no Eng- 
lishman was to be deprived of personal freedom, property, 
or life without the judicial verdict of his peers. Every one, 
moreover, was to be entitled to the free disposition of his 
property. Further, the King was to impose no taxes with- 
out the consent of the archbishops, bishops, earls, and 
barons. The towns, also, favoured by the Kings in opposi- 
tion to the barons, soon elevated themselves into a Third 
Estate and to representation in the Commons' House of 
Parliament. Yet the King was always very powerful, if he 
possessed strength of character : his crown estates procured 
for him due consideration ; in later times, however, these 
were gradually alienated — given away — so that the King was 
reduced to apply for subsidies to the parliament. 

AVe shall not pursue the minute and specifically historic 
details that concern the incorporation of principalities with 
states, or the dissensions and contests that accompanied such 
incorporations. We have only to add that the kings, when 
by weakening the feudal constitution, they had attained a 
higher degree of power, began to use that power against 
each other in the undisguised interest of their own dominion. 
Thus France and England carried on wars with each other 



SECT. II. MIDDLE AGES. — TRAIfSITION TO MOKAECHY. 423 

for a century. The kings were always endeavouring to make 
foreign conquests ; the towns, which had the largest share of 
the burdens and expenses of such wars, were opposed to 
them, and in order to placate them the kings granted them 
important privileges. 

The Popes endeavoured to make the disturbed state of 
society to which each of these changes gave rise, an occasion 
for the intervention of their authority ; but the interest of 
tbe growth of states was too firmly established to allow them 
to make their own interest of absolute authority valid 
against it. Princes and peoples were indifferent to papal 
clamour urging them to new crusades. The Emperor Louis 
set to work to deduce from Aristotle, the Bible, and the 
Eoman Law a refutation of the assumptions of the Papal 
See ; and the electors declared at the Diet held at Eense in 
1338, and afterwards still more decidedly at the Imperial 
Diet held at Prankfort, that they would defend the liberties 
and hereditary rights of the Empire, and that to make the 
choice of a Eoman Emperor or King valid, no papal confir- 
mation was needed. So, at an earlier date, 1302, on occasion 
of a contest between Pope Boniface and Philip the Fair, 
the Assembly of the States convoked by the latter had 
offbred opposition to the Pope. Eor states and communities 
had arrived at the consciousness of independent moral 
worth. — Yarious causes had united to weaken the papal 
authority: the Great Schism of the Church, which led 
men to doubt the Pope's infallibility, gave occasion to 
the decisions of the Councils of Constance and Basle, 
which assumed an authority superior to that of the Pope, 
and therefore deposed and appointed Popes. The numerous 
attempts directed against the ecclesiastical system confirmed 
the necessity of a reformation. Arnold of Brescia, Wick- 
liffe, and Huss met with sympathy in contending against 
the dogma of the papal vicegerency of Christ, and the 
gross abuses that disgraced the hierarchy. These attempts 
were, however, only partial in their scope. On the one hand 
the time was not yet ripe for a more comprehensive on- 
slaught ; on the other hand the assailants in question did 
not strike at the heart of the matter, but (especially the two 
latter) attacked the teaching of the Church chiefly with the 
weapons of erudition, and consequently failed to excite a 
deep interest among the people at large. 



424 PAET IV. THE GERMAN WOELD. 

But the ecclesiastical principle had a more dangerous foe in 
the incipient formation of political organizations, than in the 
antagonists above referred to. A common object, an aim 
intrinsically possessed of perfect moral validity,* presented 
itself to secularity in the formation of states ; and to this 
aim of community the vv^ill, the desire, the caprice of the 
individual submitted itself. The hardness characteristic of 
the self-seeking quality of '* Heart," maintaining its position 
of isolation — the knotty heart of oak underlying the na- 
tional temperament of the Germans — vras broken down and 
mellowed by the terrible discipline of the Middle Ages. 
The two iron rods which were the instruments of this 
discipline were the Church and serfdom. The Church drove 
the " Heart " [Gemiith] to desperation — made Spirit pass 
through the severest bondage, so that the soul was no longer 
its own ; but it did not degrade it to Hindoo torpor, for 
Christianity is an intrinsically spiritual principle and, as 
such, has a boundless elasticity. In the same way serfdom, 
which made a man's body not his own, but the property of 
another, dragged humanity through all the barbarism of 
slavery and unbridled desire, and the latter was destroyed 
by its own violence. It was not so much from slavery as 
through slavery that humanity was emancipated. For bar- 
barism, lust, injustice constitute evil : man, bound fast in 
its fetters, is unfit for morality and religiousness ; and 
it is from this intemperate and ungovernable state of 
volition that the discipline in question emancipated him. 
The Church fought the battle with the violence of rude 
sensuality in a temper equally wild and terroristic with that of 
its antagonist : it prostrated the latter by dint of the terrors 
of hell, and held it in perpetual subjection, in order to break 
down the spirit of barbarism and to tame it into repose. 
Theology declares that every man has this struggle to pass 
through, since he is by nature evil, and only by passing 
through a state of mental laceration arrives at the certainty 
of Eeconciliation. But granting this, it must on the other 
hand be maintained, that the form of the contest is very 
much altered when the conditions of its commencement are 
different, and when that reconciliation has had an actual reali- 

* That is, not a personal aim, whose self-seeking' character is its con. 
(Jeinnation, but a general and liberal, consequently a moral aim. — Tr. 



SECT. II. MIDDLE AGES. — INELTJENCE OF AET, ETC. 425 

zation. The path of torturous discipline is in that case dis- 
pensed with (it does indeed make its appearance at a later 
date, but in a quite different form), for the waking up of con- 
sciousness finds man surrounded by the element of a moral 
state of society. The pbase of negation is indeed, a neces- 
sary element in human development, but it bas now assumed 
the tranquil form of education, so that all the terrible charao- 
teristics of that inward struggle vanisb. 

Humanity bas now attained tbe consciousness of a real 
internal harmonization of Spirit, and a good conscience in 
regard to actuality — to secular existence. Tbe Human Spirit 
bas come to stand on its own basis. In the self-conscious- 
ness to whicb man bas tbus advanced, there is no revolt 
against tbe Divine, but a manifestation of that better sub- 
jectivity, wbicb recognizes the Divine in its own being; 
whicb is imbued with tbe Good and True, and whicb directs 
its activities to general and liberal objects bearing tbe stamp 
of rationality and beauty. 



AET AND SCIENCE AS PUTTING A PERIOD TO THE 
MIDDLE AGES. 

Humanity bebolds its spiritual firmament restored to 
serenity. With that tranquil settling down of tbe world 
into political order whicb we have been contemplating, was 
conjoined an exaltation of Spirit to a nobler grade of 
humanity in a sphere involving more comprehensive and 
concrete interests than that with which political existence 
is concerned. The Sepulchre — that ca^ut mortuum of Spirit — 
and the Ultramundane cease to absorb human attention. 
The principle of a specific and definite embodiment of the 
Infinite — that desideratum which urged the world to the 
Crusades, now developed itself in a quite different direc 
tion, viz. in secular existence asserting an independent 
ground : Spirit made its embodiment an outward one and 
found a congenial sphere in the secular life thus originated. 
The Church, however, maintained its former position, and 
retained the principle in question in its original form. Yet 
even in this case, that principle ceased to be limited to a 
bare outward existence [a sacred thing ^ the Host, e. ^.] : it 



42G PART IV. THE GEEMAN WOULD. 

was transformed and elevated by Art. Art spiritualizes,— 
animates the mere outward and material object of adoration 
with a form which expresses soul, sentiment, Spirit ; so that 
piety has not a bare sensuous embodiment of the Infinite to 
contemplate, and does not lavish its devotion on a mere 
Thing, but on the higher element with which the material 
object is imbued — that expressive form with which Spirit 
has invested it. — It is one thing for the mind to have before 
it a mere Thing — such as the Hostler se, a piece of stone or 
wood, or a wretched daub ; — quite another thing for it to 
contemplate a painting, rich in thought and sentiment, 
or a beautiful work of sculpture, in looking at which, soul 
holds converse with soul and Spirit with Spirit. In the for- 
mer case. Spirit is torn from its proper element, bound down 
to something utterly alien to it — the Sensuous, the Non- 
Spiritual. In the latter, on the contrary, the sensuous ob- 
ject is a beautiful one, and the Spiritual Form with which it 
is endued, gives it a soul and contains truth in itself. But 
on the one hand, this element of truth as thus exhibited, is 
manifested only in a sensuous mode, not in its appropriate 
form ; on the other hand, while Beligion normally involves 
independence of that which is essentially a mere outward 
and material object — a mere thing, —that kind of religion 
which is now under consideration, finds no satisfaction in 
being brought into connection with the Beautiful : the 
coarsest, ugliest, poorest representations will suit its purpose 
equally well — perhaps better. Accordingly real master- 
pieces — e. g. Raphael's Madonnas — do not enjoy distin- 
guished veneration, or elicit a multitude of offerings : in- 
ferior pictures seem on the contrary to be especial favourites 
and to be made the object of the warmest devotion and the 
most generous liberality. Piety passes by the former for 
this very reason, that were it to linger in their vicinity it 
would feel an inward stimulus and attraction ; — an excitement 
of a kind which cannot but be felt to be alien, where all 
that is desiderated is a sense of mental bondage in which 
self is lost — the stupor of abject dependence. — Thus Art 
in its very nature transcended the principle of the Church. 
But as the former manifests itself only under sensuous limi- 
tations [and does not present the suspicious aspect of abstract 
thought], it is at first regarded as a harmless and indifferent 



SECT. II. MIDDLE A&ES. — INFLUENCE OE AET, ETC. 427 

matter. The Church, therefore, continued to follow it ; but 
as soon as the free Spirit in which Art originated, advanced 
to Thought and Science, a separation ensued. 

Tor Art received a further support and experienced an 
elevating influence as the result of the study of antiquity 
(the name Tiumaniora is very expressive, for in those works 
of antiquity honour is done to the Human and to the de- 
velopment of Humanity) : through this study the "West be- 
came acquainted with the true and eternal element in the 
activity of man. The outward occasion of this revival of 
science was the fall of the Byzantine Empire. Large num- 
bers of Greeks took refuge in the West and introduced 
Greek literature there; and they brought with them not only 
the knowledge of the Greek language but also the treasures 
to which that knowledge was the key. Very little of Greek 
literature had been preserved in the convents, and an ac- 
quaintance with the language could scarcely be said to exist at 
all. With the Boman literature it was otherwise ; in regard to 
that, ancient traditions still lingered : Yirgil was thought 
to be a great magician (in Dante he appears as the guide 
in Hell and Purgatory). Through the influence of the 
Greeks, then, attention was again directed to the ancient 
Greek literature ; the West had become capable of enjoying 
and appreciating it ; quite other ideals and a different order 
of virtue from that with which mediaeval Europe was familiar 
were here presented ; an altogether novel standard forjudg- 
ing of what was to be honoured, commended and imitated 
was set up. The Greeks in their works exhibited quite 
other moral commands than those with which the West was 
acquainted ; scholastic formalism had to make way for a body 
of speculative thought of a widely different complexion: Plato 
became known in the West, and in him a new human world 
presented itself. These novel ideas met with a principal 
organ of diff'usion in the newly discovered Art of Printing, 
which, like the use of gunpowder, corresponds with 
modern character, and supplied the desideratum of the age 
in which it was invented, by tending to enable men to stand in 
an ideal connection with each other. So far as the study of 
the ancients manifested an interest in human deeds and vir- 
tues, the Church continued to tolerate it, not observing that 
in those alien works an altogether alien spirit was advancing 
to confront it. 



428 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

As a tJiird leading feature demanding our notice in deter- 
mining the character of the period, might be mentioned that 
urging of Spirit outwards — that desire on the piirt of man 
to become acquainted with his world. The chivalrous spirit 
of the maritime heroes of Portugal and Spain opened a new 
way to the East Indies and discovered America. This pro- 
gressive step also, involved no transgression of the limits of 
ecclesiastical principles or feeling. The aim of Columbus 
was by no means a merely secular one : it presented also a 
distinctly religious aspect ; the treasures of those rich Indian 
lands which awaited his discovery were destined in his in- 
tention to be expended in a new Crusade, and the heathen 
inhabitants of the countries themselves were to be converted 
to Christianity. The recognition of the spherical figure of 
the earth led man to perceive that it offered him a defi- 
nite and limited object, and navigation had been benefited 
by the new found instrumentality of the magnet, enabling it 
to be something better than mere coasting : thus technical 
appliances make their appearance when a need for them is 
experienced. 

These three events — the so-called Eevival of Learning, 
the flourishing of the Fine Arts and the discovery of America 
and of the passage to India by the Cape — may be compared 
with that hlush of dawn, which after long storms first be- 
tokens the return of a bright and glorious day. This day is 
the day of Universality, which breaks upon the world after 
the long, eventful, and terrible night of the Middle Ages — a 
day which is distinguished by science, art and inventive im- 
pulse, — that is, by the noblest and highest, and which Huma- 
nity, rendered free by Christianity and emancipated through 
the instrumentality of the Church, exhibits as the eternal 
and veritable substance of its being. 



SECTION III. 

THE MODERN TIME. 



"We have now arrived at the third period of the German 
"World, and thus enter upon the period of Spirit conscious 
that it is free, inasmuch as it wills the True, the Eternal— 
that which is in and for itself Universal. 



SECT. III. THE MODERN TIME. — THE REEOEMATION. 429 

In this tliird period also, three divisions present them- 
selves. Pirst, we have to consider the Reformation in itself— 
the all-enlightening ^un^ following on that blush of dawn 
which we observed at the termination of the mediaeval period; 
next, the unfolding of that state of things which succeeded 
the E-eformation ; and lastly, the Modern Times, dating from 
the end of the last century. 



OHAPTEE I. 

THE REFORMATION. 



The Reformation resulted from the corruption of tJie Church,^ 
That corruption was not an accidental phenomenon; it was not 
the mere ohuse of power and dominion. A corrupt state of 
things is very frequently represented as an *' abuse ;" it is 
taken for granted that the foundation was good, — the system, 
the institution itself faultless, — but that the passion, the 
subjective interest, in short the arbitrary volition of men has 
made use of that which in itself was good to further its own 
selfish ends, and that all that is required to be done is to 
remove these adventitious elements. On this shewing the 
institute in question escapes obloquy, and the evil that dis- 
figures it appears something foreign to it. But when acci- 
dental abuse of a good thing really occurs, it is limited to par- 
ticularity. A great and general corruption aifecting a body 
of such large and comprehensive scope as a Church, is quite 
another thing. — The corruption of the Church was a native 
growth ; the principle of that corruption is to be looked for 
in the fact that the specific and definite embodiment of Deity 
which it recognizes, is sensuous, — that the external in a 
coarse material form, is enshrined in its inmost being. (The 
refining transformation which Art supplied was not suffi- 
cient). The higher Spirit — that of the World — has al- 
ready expelled the Spiritual from it ; it finds nothing to in- 
terest it in the Spiritual or in occupation with it ; thus it 
retains that specific and definite embodiment ; — *.<5., we have 
the sensuous immediate subjectivity, not refined by it to 



430 PAET lY. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

Spiritual subjectivity. — Henceforth it occupies a position oj 
inferiority to the World-Spirit ; the latter has already trans- 
cended it, for it has become capable of recognizing the 
Sensuous as sensuous, the merely outward as merely out- 
ward ; it has learned to occupy itself with the Finite in a 
finite way, and in this very activity to maintain an indepen- 
dent and confident position as a valid and rightful subjec- 
tivity.* 

The element in question which is innate in the Ecclesias- 
tical principle only reveals itself as a corrupting one when 
the Church has no longer any opposition to contend with, — 
when it has become firmly established. Then its elements 
are free to display their tendencies without let or hindrance. 
Thus it is that externality in the Church itself which becomes 
evil and corruption, and develops itself as a negative princi- 
ple in its own bosom. — The forms which this corruption 
assumes are coextensive with the relations which the Church 
itself sustains, into which consequently this vitiating ele- 
ment enters. 

The ecclesiastical piety of the period displays the very 
essence of superstition — the fettering of the mind to a 
sensuous object, a mere Thing — in the most various forms : 
— slavish ^eievencQto Autliority ; for Spirit, having renounced 
its proper nature in its most essential quality [having sacri- 
ficed its characteristic liberty to a mere sensuous object], has 
lost its Freedom, and is held in adamantine bondage to what 
is alien to itself; — a credulity of the most absurd and child- 
ish character in regard to Miracles, for the Divine is sup- 
posed to manifest itself in a perfectly disconnected and 
limited way, for purely finite and particular purposes; — 
lastly, lust of power, riotous debauchery, all the forms of 
barbarous and vulgar corruption, hypocrisy and deception, 
— all this manifests itself in the Church ; for in fact the 
Sensuous in it is not subjugated and trained by the TJnder- 

* The Church, in its devotion to mere ceremonial observances, suppo-ses 
itself to be engaged with the Spiritual, while it is really occupied with the 
Sensuous. The World towards the close of the Mediaeval period, is 
equally devoted to the Sensuous, but labours under no such hallucination 
as to the character of its activity ; and it has ceased to feel compunction 
at the merely secular nature of its aims and actions, such as it mijjht have 
felt (e. g.) in the eleventh century.— Tii. 



SECT IIT. THE MODERN TIME. — THE EErOKMATION. 431 

standing; it has become free, but only in a rough and 
barbarous way. — On the other hand the virtue which the 
Church presents, since it is negative only iu opposition to 
sensual appetite, is but abstractly negative ; it does not 
know how to exercise a moral restraint in the indulgence of 
the senses ; in actual life nothing is left for it but avoidance, 
renunciation, inactivity. 

These contrasts which the Church exhibits — of barbarous 
vice and lust on the one hand, and an elevation of soul that 
is ready to renounce all worldly things, on the other hand — 
became still wider in consequence of the energetic position 
which man is sensible of occupying in his subjective power 
over outward and material things in the natural world, in 
which he feels himself free, and so gains for himself an abso- 
lute right. — The Church whose of&ce it is to save souls from 
perdition, makes this salvation itself a mere external appli- 
ance, and is now degraded so far as to perform this office in 
a merely external fashion. The remission of sins — the highest 
satisfaction which the soul craves, the certainty of its peace 
with Grod, that which concerns man's deepest and inmost 
nature — is offered to man in the most grossly superficial and 
trivial fashion, — to he purchased for mere money ; while the 
object of this sale is to procure means for dissolute excess. 
One of the objects of this sale was indeed the building of St. 
Peter's, that magnificent chef-d'oeuvre of Christian fabrics 
erected in the metropolis of religion. But, as that paragon 
of works of art the Athene and her temple- citadel at Athens, 
was built with the money of the allies and issued in the loss 
of both allies and power ; so the completion of this Church 
of St. Peter and Michael Angelo's " Last Judgment " in the 
Sistine Chapel, were the Doomsday and the ruin of this proud 
spiritual edifice. 

The time-honoured and cherished sincerity of the German 
people is destined to effect this revolution out of the honest 
truth and simplicity of its heart. "While the rest of the 
world are Urging their way to India, to America — straining 
every nerve to gain wealth and to acquire a secular 
dominion which shall encompass the globe, and on which the 
sun shall never set — we find a simple MonJc looking for 
that specific embodiment of Deity which Christendom had 
formerly sought in an earthly sepulchre of stone, rather iu 



432 PAET IT. THE GEEMiJf WORll). 

the deeper ab)ss of the Absolute Ideality of all that is sen- 
suous and external, — in the Spirit and the Heart, — the heart, 
which, wounded unspeakably by the offer of the most tri- 
vial and superficial appliances to satisfy the cravings of that 
which is inmost and deepest, now detects the perversion of 
the absolute relation of truth in its minutest features, and 
pursues it to annihilation. Luther's simple doctrine is that 
the specific embodiment of Deity — infinite subjectivity, that 
is true spirituality, Christ — is in no way present and actual in 
an outward form, but as essentially spiritual is obtained 
only in being reconciled to God — in faith and spiritual en- 
joyment. These twowords express everything. Thatwhichthis 
doctrine desiderates, is not the recognition of a sensuous object 
as God, nor even of something merely conceived, and which is 
not actual and present, but of a Eeality that is not sensuous. 
This abrogation of externality imports the reconstruction of 
all the doctrines, and the reform of all the superstition into 
which the Church consistently wandered, and in which its spi- 
ritual life was dissipated. This change especially affects the 
doctrine of works ; for works include what may be performed 
under any mental conditions — not necessarily in faith, in 
one's own soul, but as mere external observances prescribed 
by authority. Faith is by no means a bare assurance re- 
specting mere finite things — an assurance which belongs only 
to limited mind — as e. g. the belief that such or such a per- 
son existed and said this or that ; or that the Children of 
Israel passed dry-shod through the Eed Sea — or that the 
trumpets before the walls of Jericho produced as powerful 
an impression as our cannons ; for although nothing of all 
this had been related to us, our knowledge of God would 
not be the less complete. In fact it is not a belief in some- 
thing that is absent, past and gone, but the subjective as- 
surance of the Eternal, of Absolute Truth, the Truth of God. 
Concerning this assurance, the Lutheran Church affirms that 
the Holy Spirit alone produces it — i. e. that it is an assur- 
ance which the individual attains, not in virtue of his 
particular idiosyncrasy, but of his essential being. — The 
Lutheran doctrine therefore involves the entire substance of 
Catholicism, with the exception of all that results from the 
element of externality — as far as the Catholic Church insists 
upon that externality. Luther therefore could not do other- 



SECT. III. THE MODEniSr TIME. — THE EEFOEMATIOIf. 433 

wise than refuse to yield an iota in regard to that doctrine of 
the Eucharist in which the whole question is concentrated. 
Kor could he concede to the Eeformed [Calvinistic] Church, 
that Christ is a mere commemoration, a mere reminiscence : 
in this respect his view was rather in accordance with that 
of the Catholic Church, viz. that Christ is an actual presence, 
though only in faith and in Spirit. He maintained that the 
Spirit of Christ really fills the human heart, — that Christ 
therefore is not to be regarded as merely an historical per- 
son, but that man sustains an immediate relation to him in 
Spirit. 

While, then, the individual knows that he is filled with the 
Divine Spirit, all the relations that sprung from that vitiating 
element of externality which w^e examined above, are ipso 
facto abrogated: there is no longer a distinction between 
priests and laymen ; we no longer find one class in posses- 
sion of the substance of the Truth, as of all the spiritual and 
temporal treasures of the Church ; but the heart — the emo • 
tional part of man's Spiritual nature — is recognized as that 
which can and ought to come into possession of the Truth ; 
and this subjectivity is the common property of allmanhind. 
Each has to accomplish the work of reconciliation in his 
own soul. — Subjective Spirit has to receive the Spirit of 
Truth into itself, and give it a dwelling place there. Thus 
that absolute inwardness of soul which pertains to reli- 
gion itself, and Freedom in the Church are both secured. 
Subjectivity therefore makes the objective purport of Chris- 
tianity, i. e. the doctrine of the Church, its ow^n. In the 
Lutheran Church the subjective feeling and the conviction 
of the individual is regarded as equally necessary with the 
objective side of Truth. Truth, with Lutherans is not a 
finished and completed thing; the subject himself must be 
imbued with Truth, surrendering his particular being in ex- 
change for the substantial Truth, and making that Truth 
his own. Thus subjective Spirit gains emancipation in the 
Truth, abnegates its particularity and comes to itself in 
realizing the truth of its being. Thus Christian Ereedom is 
actualized. If Subjectivity be placed in feeling only, with^ 
out that objective side, we have the stand- point of the merely 
Natural Will. 

In the proclamation of these principles is unfurled the new, 

3i: 



434 PAllT IV. THE GERMAN WORLD, 

the latest standard round which the peoples rally — the 
banner of Free Spirit, independent, though finding its life in 
the Truth, and enjoying independence only in it. This is 
the banner under which we serve, and which we bear. Time, 
since that epoch, has had no other work to do than the 
formal imbuing of the world with this principle, in bringing 
the Eeconciliation implicit [in Christianity] into objective 
and explicit realization. Culture is essentially concerned 
with Form ; the work of Culture is the production of the 
Porm of Universality, which is none other than Thought.* 
Consequently Law, Property, Social Morality, Grovernment, 
Constitutions, &c. must be conformed to general principles, 
in order that they may accord with the idea of Free Will 
and be Bational. Thus only can the Spirit of Truth mani- 
fest itself in Subjective Will — in the particular shapes which 
the activity of the AVill assumes. In virtue of that degree 
of intensity which Subjective Free Spirit has attained, ele- 
vating it to the form of Universality, Objective Spirit attains 
manifestation. This is the sense in which we must under- 
stand the State to be based on Eeligion. States and Laws 
are nothing else than Religion manifesting itself in the 
relations of the actual world. 

This is the essence of the Eeformation : Man is in his very 
nature destined to be free. 

At its commencement, the E-eformation concerned itself 
only with particular aspects of the Catholic Church : Luther 
wished to act in union with the whole Catholic world, and 
expressed a desire that Councils should be convened. His 
theses found supporters in every country. In answer to the 
charge brought against Luther and the Protestants, of exag- 
geration — nay, even of calumnious misrepresentation in their 
descriptions of the corruption of the Church, we may refer 
to the statements of Catholics themselves, bearing upon this 

* Tlie community of principle which really links tog-ether individuals 
of the same class, and in virtue of which they are siuiilarly related toothei 
existences, assumes 2k form in human consciousness ; and that form is tht 
thoug'ht or idea which summaiily comprehends the constituents of g-eneric 
character. The primary meaning' of the word icia and of the related terms 
fi^ofand species, is "form." Every " Universal " in Thoug-ht has acorres- 
pondinp: greneric piinciple in Reality, to which it gives iatellectual expres- 
ei&u or form. — Ti?. 



SECT. III. THE MODERN TIME. — THE REFORMATION". 435 

point, and particularly to those contained in the official 
documents of Ecclesiastical Councils. But Luther's on- 
slaught, which was at first limited to particular points, waa 
soon extended to the doctrines of the Church ; and leaving in- 
dividuals, he attacked institutions at large — conventual life, 
the secular lordships of the bishops, &c. His writings now 
controverted not merely isolated dicta of the Pope and the 
Councils, but the very principle on which such a mode of 
deciding points in dispute was based — in fact, the Authority 
of the Church. Luther repudiated that authority, and set up 
in its stead the Bihle and the testimony of the Human 
Spirit. And it is a fact of the weightiest import that the 
Bible has become the basis of the Christian Church : hence- 
forth each individual enjoys the right of deriving instruction 
for himself from it, and of directing his conscience in accord- 
ance with it. We see a vast change in the principle by which 
man's religious life is guided : the whole system of Tradi- 
tion, the whole fabric of the Church becomes problematical, 
and its authority is subverted. Luther's translation of the 
Bible has been of incalculable value to the Grerman people. 
It has supplied them with a People's Book, such as no 
nation in the Catholic world can boast ; for though the 
latter have a vast number of minor productions in the shape 
of prayer-books, they have no generally recognized and 
classical book for popular instruction. In spite of this it 
has been made a question in modern times whether it is 
judicious to place the Bible in the hands of the People. Yet 
the few disadvantages thus entailed are far more than coun- 
terbalanced by the incalculable benefits thence accruing : 
narratives, which in their external shape might be repellent 
to the heart and understanding, can be discriminatingly 
treated by the religious sense, which, holding fast the sub>- 
stantial truth, easily vanquishes any such difficulties. And 
even if the books which have pretensions to the character 
of People's Books were not so superficial as they are, 
they would certainly fail in securing that respect which a 
book claiming such a title ought to inspire in individuals. 
But to obviate this difficulty is no easy matter, for even 
should a book adapted to the purpose in every other respect 
be produced, every country parson would have some fault to 
find with itj and think to better it. In France the need of such 

2 E 2 



430 PAKT IV. THE GEKMATT WORLD. 

a book has been very much felt ; great premiums have been 
offered with a view to obtaining one, but, from the reason 
stated, without success. Moreover, the existence of a 
People's Book presupposes as its primary condition an ability 
to read on the part of the People ; an ability which in Catho- 
lic countries is not very commonly to be met with. 

The denial of the Authority of the Church necessarily led 
to a separation. The Council of Trent stereotyped the 
principles of Catholicism, and made the restoration of con- 
cord impossible. Leibnitz at a later time discussed with 
Bishop Bossuet the question of the union of the Churches ; 
but the Council of Trent remains the insurmountable ob- 
stacle. The Churches became hostile parties, for even in 
respect to secular arrangements a striking difference mani- 
fested itself. In the non- Catholic countries the conventual 
establishments and episcopal foundations were broken up, 
and the rights of the then proprietors ignored. Educational 
arrangements were altered ; the fasts and holy days were 
abolished. Thus there was also a secular reform — a change 
affecting the state of things outside the sphere of eccle- 
siastical relations: in many places a rebellion was raised 
against the temporal authorities. In Miinster the Ana- 
baptists expelled the Bishop and established a government 
of their own ; and the peasants rose en masse to emancipate 
themselves from the yoke of serfdom. But the world was 
not yet ripe for a transformation of its political condition 
as a consequence of ecclesiastical reformation. — The Catholic 
Church also was essentially influenced by the Iteformation : 
the reins of discipline were drawn tighter, and the greatest oc- 
casions of scandal, the most crying abuses were abated. Much 
of the intellectual life of the age that lay outside its sphere, 
but with which it had previously maintained friendly relations, 
it now repudiated. The Church came to a dead stop — " hither- 
to and no farther !" It severed itself from advancing Science, 
from philosophy and liumanistic literature; and an occasion 
was soon offered of declaring its enmity to the scientific 
pursuits of the period. The celebrated Copernicus had dis- 
covered that the eai' h and the planets revolve round the 
Bun, but the Cliurch declared against this addition to human 
knowledge. G-alileo, who had published a statement in the 
\orm of a dialogue of the evidence for and against the Coper- 



SECT. III. THE MODEEN TIME, — THE REFORMATION. 437 

niean discovery (declaring indeed his own conviction of itu 
trubh), was obliged to crave pardon for the offence on his 
knees. The G-reek literature was not made the basis of cul- 
ture; education was entrusted to the Jesuits. Thus doesr 
the Spirit of the Catholic world in general sink behind the 
Spirit of the Age. 

Here an important question solicits investigation : — why 
the Keformation was limited to certain nations, and why it 
did not permeate the whole Catholic world. The E/cforma- 
tion originated in Germany, and struck firm root only in the 
purely German nations ; outside of Germany itself it estab- 
lished itself in Scandinavia and England. But the Eomanic 
and Sclavonic nations kept decidedly aloof from it. Even 
South Germany has only partially adopted the Reformation 
— a fact which is consistent with the mingling of elements 
which is the general characteristic of its nationality. In 
Swabia, Eranconia, and the Rhine countries there were many 
convents and bishoprics, as also many free imperial towns ; 
and the reception or rejection of the Reformation very much 
depended on the influences which these ecclesiastical and 
civil bodies respectively exercised; for we have already 
noticed that the Reformation was a change influencing the 
political life of the age as well as its religious and intellectual 
condition. We must further observe, that authority has 
much greater weight in determining men's opinions than 
people are inclined to believe. There are certain fun- 
damental principles which men are in the habit of receiving 
on the strength of authority ; and it was mere authority 
which in the case of many countries decided for or against 
the adoption of the Reformation. In Austria, in Bavaria, in 
Bohemia, the Reformation had already made great progress ; 
and though it is commonly said that when truth has once pene- 
trated men's souls, it cannot be rooted out again, it was 
indisputably stifled in the countries in question, by force of 
arms, by stratagem or persuasion. The Sclavonic nations were 
agricultural. This condition of life brings with it the rela- 
tion of lord and serf. In agriculture the agency of nature 
predominates ; human industry and subjective activity are 
on the whole less brought into play in this department of 
labour than elsewhere. The Sclavonians therefore did not 
attain so quickly or readily as other nations the fundamental 



488 PART IV. THE GERMAN WOELD. 

sense of pure individuality — the consciousness of Universality 
— that which we designated above as "political power" 
[p. 415], and could not share the benefits of dawning 
freedom. — But the Romanic nations also — Italy, Spain, 
Portugal, and in part France — were not imbued with the 
Eeformed doctrines. Physical force perhaps did much to 
repress them ; yet this alone would not be sufficient to ex- 
plain the fact, for when the Spirit of a Nation craves 
anything no force can prevent its attaining the desired 
object : nor can it be said that these nations were deficient 
in culture ; on the contrary, they were in advance of the 
Germans in this respect. It was rather owing to the funda- 
mental character of these nations, that they did not adopt 
the Reformation. But what is this peculiarity of character 
which hindered the attainment of Spiritual Freedom ? "We 
answer: the pure inwardness of the German Nation was 
the proper soil for the emancipation of Spirit ; the Eomanic 
Nations, on the contrary, have maintained in the very depth 
of their soul — in their Spiritual Consciousness — the principle 
of Disharmony : * they are a product of the fusion of Eoman 
and German blood, and still retain the heterogeneity thence 
resulting. The German cannot deny that the French, the 
Italians, the Spaniards, possess more determination of charac- 
ter — that they pursue a settled aim (even though it have a 
fixed idea for its object) with perfectly clear consciousness 
and the greatest attention — that they carry out a plan with 
great circumspection, and exhibit the greatest decision in 
regard to specific objects. The French call the Germans 
entiers, " entire " — i.e., stubborn ; they are also strangers to 
the whimsical originality of the English. The Englishman 
attaches his idea of liberty to the special [as opposed to the 
general] ; he does not trouble himself about the Understand- 
ing [logical inference], but on the contrary feels himself so 
much the more at liberty, the more his course of action or 
his license to act contravenes the Understanding— z.e., runs 
counter to [logical inferences or] general principles. On 
the other hand, among the Romanic peoples we immediately 
encounter that internal schism, that holding fast by an ab- 

* The acknowledgrnent of an external power authorized to command 
the entire soul of man was not supplanted in their case by a deference to 
Conscience and subjective Principle {i.e., the union of Objective and Sub* 
jective freedom) as the supreme authority. — Tr. 



SECT. III. THE MODERN TIME. — THE IIEPOEMATIOX. 431) 

stract principle, and as the counterpart of this, an absence of the 
Totality of Spirit and sentiment which we call "Heart :" there 
is not that meditative introversion of the soul upon itself; — in 
their inmost being they maybe said to be alienated from them- 
selves [abstract principles carry them awm/']. "With them the 
inner life is a region whose depth they do not appreciate; for it 
is given over 'bodily' to particular [absorbing] interests, and 
the infinity that belongs to Spirit is not to be looked for 
there. Their inmost being is not their own. They leave it 
as an alien and indifferent matter, and are glad to have its 
concerns settled for them by another. That other to which 
they leave it is the Church. They have indeed something 
to do with it themselves ; but since that which they have to 
do is not self-originated and self-prescribed, not their very 
own, they are content to leave the affair to be settled in a 
superficial way. " JSh hien,'' said Napoleon, " we shall go 
to mass again, and my good fellows will say : ' That is the 
word of command!'" This is the leading feature in the 
character of these nations — the separation of the religious 
from the secular interest, i.e., from the special interest of 
individuality ; and the ground of this separation lies in their 
inmost soul, M^hich has lost its independent entireness of' 
being, its profoundest unity. Catholicism does not claim 
the essential direction of the Secular ; religion remains an 
indifferent matter on the one side, while the other side of 
life is dissociated from it, and occupies a sphere exclusively 
its own. Cultivated Frenchmen therefore feel an antipathy 
to Protestantism because it seems to them something pedan- 
tic, dull, minutely captious in its morality ; since it requires 
that Spirit and Thought should be directly engaged in reli- 
gion : in attending mass and other ceremonies, on the con- 
trary, no exertion of thought is required, but an imposing 
sensuous spectacle is presented to the eye, which does not 
make such a demand on one's attention as entirely to exclude 
a little chat, while yet the duties of the occasion are not 
neglected. 

"We spoke above of the relation which the new doctrine 
sustained to secular life, and now we have only to exhibit 
that relation in detail. The development and advance of 
Spirit from the time of the Eeformation onwards consists in 
this, that Spirit, having now gained the consciousness of its 



•MO tAt^c rt. THE GERMAN WORLD. 



1 



Freedom, through that process of mediation which takea 
place between man and God — that is, in the full recognition 
oi the objective process as the existence [the positive and 
definite manifestation] of the Divine essence — now takes it 
up and follows it out in building up the edifice of secular 
relations. That harmony [of Objective and Subjective Will] 
which has resulted from the painful struggles of History, 
involves the recognition of the Secular as capable of being 
an embodiment of Truth ; whereas it had been formerly re- 
garded as evil only, as incapable of Good — the latter being 
considered essentially ultramundane. It is now perceived 
that Morality and Justice in the State are also divine 
and commanded by God, and that in point of substance 
there is nothing higher or more sacred. One inference is 
that Marriage is no longer deemed less holy than Celibacy. 
Luther took a wife to shew that he respected marriage, 
defying the calumnies to which he exposed himself by such 
a step. It was his duty to do so, as it was also to eat meat 
on Fridays ; to prove that such things are lawful and right, 
in opposition to the imagined superiority of abstinence. 
The Family introduces man to community — to the relation of 
interdependence in society ; and this union is a moral one : 
while on the other hand the monks, separated from the sphere 
of social morality, formed as it were the standing army of the 
Pope, as the janizaries formed the basis of the Turkish 
power. The marriage of the priests entails the disappear- 
ance of the outward distinction between laity and clergy. — 
Moreover the repudiation of work no longer earned the repu- 
lation of sanctity ; it was acknowledged to be more commen- 
dable for men to rise from a state of dependence by activity^ 
intelligence, and industry, and make themselves independent. 
It is more consonant with justice that he who has money 
should spend it even in luxuries, than that he should give it 
away to idlers and beggars; for he bestows it on an equal num- 
ber of persons by so doing, and these must at any rate have 
worked diligently for it. Industry, crafts and trades now have 
their moral validity recognized, and the obstacles to their 
prosperity which originated with the Church, have vanished. 
For the Church had pronounced it a sin to lend money on 
interest : but the necessity of so doing led to the direct 
violation of her injunctions. The Lombards (a fact which 



SECT. III. THE MODERN TIME. — THE EEFORMATION. 441 

accounts for the use of the term "lombard" in French to 
denote a loan-office), and particularly the House of Medici, 
advanced money to princes in every part of Europe. The 
third point of sanctity it the Catholic Church, — blind 
obedience, was likewise denuded of its false pretensions. 
Obedience to the laws of the State, as the Rational element 
in volition and action, was made the principle of human con- 
duct. In this obedience man is free, for all that is demanded 
is that the Particular should yield to the G-eneral. Man 
himself has a conscience ; consequently the subjection re- 
quired of him is a free allegiance. This involves the possi- 
bility of a development of E-eason and Freedom, and of their 
introduction into human relations ; and Reason and the 
Divine commands are now synonymous. The Rational no 
longer meets with contradiction on the part of the religious 
conscience; it is permitted to develop itself in its own 
sphere without disturbance, without being compelled to 
resort to force in defending itself against an adverse power. 
But in the Catholic Church, that adverse element is uncon- 
ditionally sanctioned. Where the Reformed doctrine pre- 
vails, princes may still be bad governors, but they are no 
longer sanctioned and solicited thereto by the promptings 
of their religious conscience. In the Catholic Church on the 
contrary, it is nothing singular for the conscience to be 
found in opposition to the laws of the State. Assassinations 
of sovereigns, conspiracies against the state, and the like, 
have often been supported and carried into execution by the 
priests. 

This harmony between the State and the Church has now 
attained immediate realization.* We have, as yet, no recon- 
struction of the State, of the system of jurisprudence, &c. for 
thought must first discover the essential principles of Eight. 
The Laws of Freedom had first to be expanded to a system 
as deduced from an absolute principle of Right. Spirit does 
not assume this complete form immediately after the Refor- 
mation ; it limits itself at first to direct and simple changes, 
as e.g. the doing away with conventual establishments and 
episcopal jurisdiction, &c. The reconciliation between God 

* That is, the harmony in question simply exists; its development and 
results have not yet manifested themselves. — Til. 



442 PART IT. THK GERMATf WORLD. 

and the "World waslimited in the first instance to an abstract 
form ; it was not yet expanded into a system by which the 
moral world could be regulated. 

In the first instance this reconciliation must take place in 
the individual soul, must be realized by feeling ; the indivi- 
dual must gain the assurance that the Spirit dwells in him, — 
that, in the language of the Church, a brokenness of heart has 
been experienced, and that Divine grace has entered into the 
heart thus broken. By Nature man is not what he ought 
to be ; only through a transforming process does he arrive 
at truth. The general and speculative aspect of the matter 
is just this — that the human heart is not what it should be. 
It was then required of the individual that he should know 
what he is in himself; that is, the teaching of the Church 
insisted upon man's becoming conscious that he is evil. But 
the individual is evil only when the Natural manifests itself in 
mere sensual desire — when an unrighteous will presents 
itself in its untamed, untrained, violent shape ; and yet it is 
required that such a person should know that he is depraved, 
and that the good Spirit dwells in him; in fact he is required 
to have a direct consciousness of and to '* experience " that 
which was presented to him as a speculative and implicit 
truth. The Eecouciliation having, then, assumed this ab- 
stract form, men tormented themselves with a view to force 
upon their souls the consciousness of their sinfulness and 
to know themselves as evil. The most simple souls, the most 
innocent natures were accustomed in painful introspection to 
observe the most secret workings of the heart, with a view to a 
rigid examination of them. With this duty was conjoined that 
of an entirely opposite description ; it was required that man 
should attain the consciousness that the good Spirit dwells 
in him — that Divine Grace has found an entrance into his 
soul. In fact the important distinction between the know- 
ledge of abstract truth and the knowledge of what haa 
actual existence was left out of sight. Men became the victims 
of a tormenting uncertainty as to whether the good Spirit 
has an abode in them, and it was deemed indispensable that 
the entire process of spiritual transformation should become 
perceptible to the individual himself An echo of this self- 
tormenting process may still be traced in much of the reli- 
gious poetry of that time j the Psalms of David which exhibit 



SECT. III. THE MODERN TIME.— THE EEFORMATION. 443 

a similar character were then introduced as hymns into .the 
ritual of Protestant Churches. Protestantism took this turn 
of minute and painful introspection, possessed with the con- 
viction of the importance of the exercise, and was for a loug 
time characterized by a self-tormenting disposition and an 
aspect of spiritual wretchedness ; which in the present day 
has induced many persons to enter the Catholic pale, that the^ 
might exchange this inward uncertainty for a formal broad 
certainty based on the imposing totality of the Church. A 
more refined order of reflection upon the character of human 
actions was introduced into the Catholic Church also. The 
Jesuits analysed the first rudiments of volition (velleitas) 
with as painful minuteness as was displayed in the pious 
exercises of Protestantism ; but they had a science of casuis- 
try which enabled them to discover a good reason for every 
thing, and so get rid of the burden of guilt which this rigid 
investigation seemed to aggravate. 

"With this was connected another remarkable phenomenon, 
common to the Catholic with the Protestant World. The hu- 
man mind was driven into the Inward, the Abstract, and the 
Eeligious element was regarded as utterly alien to the secular. 
That lively consciousness of his subjective life and of the 
inward origin of his volition that had been awakened in man, 
brought with it the belief in JEvil, as a vast power the sphere 
of whose malign dominion is the Secular. This belief presents 
a parallelism with the view in which the sale of Indulgences 
originated: for as eternal salvation could be secured for 
money, so by paying the price of one's salvation through 
a compact made with the JDevil, the riches of the world and 
the unlimited gratification of desires and passions could be 
secured. Thus arose that famous legend of Paust, who in dis- 
gust at the unsatisfactory character of speculative science, is 
said to have plunged into the world and purchased all its glory 
at the expense of his salvation. Paust, if we may trust the 
poet, had the enjoyment of all that the world could give, 
in exchange for his soul's weal ; but those poor women who 
were called Witches were reputed to get nothing more by the 
bargain than the gratification of a petty revenge by making 
a neighbour's cow go dry or giving a child the measl-es. 
But in awarding punishment it was not the magnitude of 
the injury in the loss of the milk or the sickness of the 



444 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

child that was considered ; it was the abstract power of the 
Evil One in them^that was attacked. The belief in this 
abstract, special power whose dominion is the world — in the 
Devil and his devices — occasioned an incalculable number 
of trials for witchcraft both in Catholic and Protestant 
countries. It was impossible to prove the guilt of the ac- 
cused ; they were only suspected : it was therefore only a 
direct knowledge [one not mediated by proofs] on which 
this fury against the evil principle professed to be based. 
It was indeed necessary to have recourse to evidence, but 
the basis of these judicial processes was simply the belief 
that certain individuals were possessed by the power of the 
Evil One. This delusion raged among the nations in the 
sixteenth century with the fury of a pestilence. The main 
impulse was suspicion. The principle of suspicion assumes 
a similarly terrible shape during the sway of the Roman 
Emperors, and under Robespierre's Reign of Terror ; when 
mere disposition, unaccompanied by any overt act or ex- 
pression, was made an object of punishment. Among the 
Catholics, it was the Dominicans to whom (as was the Inqui- 
sition in all its branches) the trials for witchcraft were 
entrusted. Father Spee, a noble Jesuit, wrote a treatise 
against them (he is also the author of a collection of fine 
poems bearing the title of " Trutznachtigall^*') giving a full 
exposure of the terrible character of criminal justice in pro- 
ceedings of this kind. Torture, which was only to be applied 
once, was continued until a confession was extorted. If the 
accused fainted under the torture it was averred that the 
Devil was giving them sleep : if convulsions supervened, it 
Was said that the Devil was laughing in them ; if they held 
out steadfastly, the Devil was supposed to give them power. 
These persecutioas spread like an epidemic sickness through 
Italy, France, Spain and Germany. The earnest remon- 
strances of enlightened men, such as Spee and others, 
already produced a considerable efiect. Rut it was Thoma- 
sius, a Professor of Halle, who first opposed this prevalent 
superstition with very decided success. The entire phenome- 
non is in itself most remarkable when we reflect that we 
have not long been quit of this frightful barbarity (even 
as late as the year 1780 a witch was publicly burned at 
Glarus in Switzerland). Among the Catholics persecution 



SECT. III. THE EEFOEMATION AND THE STATE. 445 

was directed against heretics as well as against witches : we 
might say indeed that they were placed in one category ; 
the unbelief of the heretics was regarded as none other 
than the indwelling principle of Evil— a possession similar 
to the other. 

Leaving this abstract form of Subjectiveness we have now 
to consider the secular side — the constitution of the State 
and the advance of Universality — the recognition of the 
universal laws of Freedom. This is the second and the essen- 
tial point. 



CHAPTEE II. 

INFLUENCE OF THE REFORMATION ON POLITICAL 
DEVELOPMENT. 

In" tracing the course of the political development of the 
period, we observe in the first place the consolidation of 
Monarchy, and the Monarch invested wdth an authority 
emanating from the State. The incipient stage in the rise 
of royal power, and the commencement of that unity which 
the states of Europe attained, belong to a still earlier period. 
While these changes were going forward, the entire body of 
private obligations and rights which had been handed down 
from the Middle Age, still retained validity. Infinitely im- 
portant is this form of private rights, which the organic 
constituents of the executive power of the State have as- 
sumed. At their apex we find a fixed and positive principle 
— the exclusive right of one family to the possession of the 
tlirone, and the hereditary succession of sovereigns further 
restricted by the law of primogeniture. This gives the State 
an immovable centre. The fact that Grermany was an elec- 
tive empire prevented its being consolidated into one state ; 
and for the same reason Poland has vanished from the circle 
of independent states. The State must have a final decisive 
will : but if an individual is to be the final deciding power, 
he must be so in a direct and natural way, not as deter- 
mined by choice and theoretic views, &c. Even among 



446 PART IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD. 

the free Greeks the oracle was the external power which 
decided their policy on critical occasions ; here hirth is the 
oracle — something independent of any arbitrary volition. 
But the circumstance that the highest station in a monarchy 
is assigned to a family, seems to indicate that the sovereignty 
is the private property of that family. As such that sove- 
reignty would seem to be divisible ; but since the idea of 
division of power is opposed to the principle of the state, 
the righj^s of the monarch and his family required to be 
more strictly defined. Sovereign possession is not a pecu- 
lium of the individual ruler, but is consigned to the dynastic 
family as a trust; and the estates of the realm -possess security 
that that trust shall be faithfully discharged, for they have to 
guard the unity of the body politic. Thus, then, royal 
possession no longer denotes a kind of private property, pri- 
vate possession of estates, demesnes, jurisdiction, &c., but 
has become a State-property — a function pertaining to and 
involved with the State. 

^ Equally important, and connected with that just no- 
ticed,^ is the change of executive powers, functions, duties 
and rights, which naturally belong to the State, but which 
had become private property and private contracts or obliga- 
tions — into possession conferred by the State. The rights of 
seigneurs and barons were annulled, and they were obliged 
to content themselves with official positions in the State. 
This transformation of the rights of vassals into official func- 
tions took place in the several kingdoms in various ways. 
In FrancCy e.g., the great Barons, who were governors of 
provinces, who could claim such offices as a matter of right, 
and who like the Turkish Pashas, maintained a body of 
troops with the revenues thence derived —troops which they 
might at any moment bring into the field against the King — 
were reduced to the position of mere landed proprietors or 
court nobility, and those Pashalics became offices held under 
the government ; or the nobility were employed as officers — 
generals of the army, an army belonging to the State. In 
this aspect the origination of standing armies is so important 
an event ; for they supply the monarchy with an independent 
force and are as necessary for the security of the central au- 
thority against the rebellion of the subject individuals as for 
the defence of the state against foreign enemies. The fiscal 



SECT. III. THE EEFOEMATION AlsB THE STATE. 447 

system indeed had not as yet assumed a systematic charac- 
ter,— the revenue being derived from customs, taxes and 
tolls in countless variety, besides the subsidies and contribu- 
tions paid by the estates of the realai ; in return for which 
the right of presenting a statement of grievances was con- 
ceded to them, as is now the case in Hungary. — In Spain 
the spirit of chivalry had assumed a very beautiful and noble 
form. This chivalric spirit, this knightly dignity, degraded 
to a mere inactive sentiment of honour, has attained 
notoriety as the Spanish grandezza. The Grrandees were 
no longer allowed to maintain troops of their own, and were 
also withdrawn from the command of the armies; desti- 
tute of power they had to content themselves as private 
persons with an empty title. But the means by which the 
royal power in Spain was consolidated, was the Inquisiiion. 
This, which was established for the persecution of those who 
secretly adhered to Judaism, and of Moors and heretics, soon 
assumed a political character, being directed against the ene- 
mies of the State. Thus the Inquisition confirmed the despotic 
power of the King : it claimed supremacy even over bishops 
and archbishops, and could cite them before its tribunal. 
The frequent confiscation of property — one of the most cus- 
tomary penalties — tended to enrich the treasury of the 
State. Moreover, the Inquisition was a tribunal which took 
cognizance of mere suspicion; and while it consequently 
exercised a fearful authority over the clergy, it had a peculiar 
support in the national pride. Eor ever}^ Spaniard wished 
to be considered Christian by descent, and this species of 
vanity fell in with the views and tendency of the Inquisition. 
Particular provinces of the Spanish monarchy, as e. g. Arra- 
gon, still retained many peculiar rights and privileges ; but 
the Spanish Kings from Philip II. downwards proceeded to 
suppress them altogether. 

It would lead us too far to pursue in detail the process of 
the depression of the aristocracy in the several states of 
Europe. The main scope of this depressing process was, as 
already stated, the curtailment of the private rights of the 
i'eudal nobility, and the transformation of their seigneurial 
authority into an official position in connection with the 
State. This change was in the interest of both the King 
and the People. The powerful barons seemed to coustituto 



448 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

an intermediate body charged with the defence of liberty ; 
but properly speaking, it was only their own privileges which 
they maintained against the royal power on the one hand 
and the citizens on the other hand. The barons of England 
extorted Magna Charta from the King ; but the citizens 
gained nothing by it, on the contrary they remained in their 
former condition. Polish Liberty too, meant nothing more 
than the freedom of the barons in contraposition to the 
King, the nation being reduced to a state of absolute serf- 
dom. "When liberty is mentioned, we must always be careful 
to observe whether it is not really the assertion of private in- 
terests which is thereby designated. For although the nobi- 
lity were deprived of their sovereign power, the people were 
still oppressed in consequence of their absolute dependence, 
their serfdom, and subjection to aristocratic jurisdiction; 
and they were partly declared utterly incapable of possessing 
property, partly subjected to a condition of bond-service 
which did not permit of their freely selling the products of 
their industry. The supreme interest of emancipation from 
this condition concerned the power of the State as well as 
the subjects — that emancipation which now gave them as 
citizens the character of free individuals, and determined 
that what was to be performed for the Commonwealth should 
be a matter of just allotment, not of mere chance. The 
aristocracy of possession maintains that possession against 
both — viz. against the power of the State at large and 
against individuals. But the aristocracy have a position as- 
signed them, as the support of the throne, as occupied and 
active on behalf of the State and the common weal, and at the 
same time as maintaining the freedom of the citizens. This 
in fact is the prerogative of that class which forms the link 
between the Sovereign and the People — to undertake to dis- 
cern and to give the first impulse to that which is intrinsi- 
cally Kational and Universal ; and this recognition of and 
occupation with the Universal must take the place of positive 
personal right. This subjection to the Head of the State of 
that intermediate power which laid claim to positive au- 
thority was now accomplished, but this did not involve the 
emancipation of the subject class. This took place only at 
a later date, when the idea of right in and for itself arose 
iu men's minds. Then the sovereigns relying on their re- 



8ECT. III. THE llEFORMATION AND THE STATE. 44i9 

spective peoples, vanquished the caste of unrighteousness ; 
but where they united with the barons, or where the latter 
maintained their freedom against the kings, those positive 
rights or rather wrongs continued. — 

We observe also as an essential feature now first present- 
ing itself in the political aspect of the time, a connected sys- 
tem of States and a relation of States to each other. They 
became involved in various wars: the Kings having enlarged 
their political authority, now turn their attention to foreign 
lands, insisting upon claims of all kinds. The aim and real 
interest of the wars of the period is invariably conquest. 

Italy especially had become such an object of desire, 
and was a prey to the rapacity of the French, the Spaniards, 
and at a later date, of the Austrians. In fact absolute disin- 
tegration and dismemberment has always been an essential 
feature in the national character of the inhabitants of Italy, 
in ancient as well as in modern times. Their stubborn in- 
dividuality was exchanged for a union the result of force, 
under the Eoman dominion ; but as soon as this bond was 
broken, the original character reappeared in full streno-th. 
In later times, as if finding in them a bond of union otherwise 
impossible — after having escaped from a selfishness of the 
most monstrous order and which displayed its perverse 
nature in crimes of every description — the Italians attained 
a taste for the Fine Arts : thus their civilization, the miti- 
gation of their selfishness, reached only the Grade of Beauty, 
not that of Eationality — the higher unity of Thought. Con- 
sequently, even in poetry and song the Italian nature is 
different from ours. Improvisation characterizes the genius 
of the Italians ; they pour out their very souls in Art and 
the ecstatic enjoyment of it. Enjoying a naturel so imbued 
with Art, the State must be an affair of comparative indif- 
ference, a merely casual matter to the Italians. But we 
have to observe also that the wars in which Germany en- 
gaged, were not particularly honourable to it: it allowed 
Burgundy, Lorraine, Alsace, and other parts of the empire 
to be wrested from it. Erom these wars between the 
various political powers there arose common interests, and 
the object of that community of interest was the mainte- 
nance of severalty, — the preservation to the several States of 
their independence, -in fact the " balance of power " The 

2 G 



450 PART IT. THE GERMAN WOELD. 

motive to this was of a decidedly ''practical" kind, viz. the 
protection of the several States from conquest. The union 
of the States of Europe as the means of shielding individual 
States from the violence of the powerful — the preservation 
of the balance of power, had now taken the place of that 
general aim of the elder time, the defence of Christendom, 
whose centre was the Papacy. This new political motive 
was necessarily accompanied by a diplomatic condition, — one 
in which all the members of the great European sys- 
tem, however distant, felt an interest in that which hap- 
pened to any one of them. Diplomatic policy had been 
brought to the greatest refinement in Italy, and was thence 
transmitted to Europe at large. Several princes in suc- 
cession seemed to threaten the stability of the balance of 
power in Europe. When this combination of States was 
just commencing, Charles V. was aiming at universal mon- 
archy ; for he was Emperor of Glermany and King of Spain 
to boot : the Netherlands and Italy acknowledged his sway, 
and the whole wealth of America flowed into his coffers. 
With this enormous power, which, like the contingencies of 
fortune in the case of private property, had been accumu- 
lated by the most felicitous combinations of political dex- 
terity, — among other things by marriage, —but which was 
destitute of an internal and reliable bond, he was nevertheless 
unable to gaiu any advantage over France, or even over the 
German princes ; nay he was even compelled to a peace by 
Maurice of Saxony. His whole life was spent in sup- 
pressing disturbances in all parts of his empire and in 
conducting foreign wars. The balance of power in Europe 
was similarly threatened by Louis the Fourteenth. Through 
that depression of the grandees of his kingdom which 
E-ichelieu and after him Mazarin had accomplished, he had 
become an absolute sovereign. France, too, had the con- 
sciousness of its intellectual superiority in a refinement of 
culture surpassing anything of which the rest of Europe 
could boast. The pretensions of Louis were founded not 
on extent of dominion, (as was the case with Charles V.) so 
much as on that culture which distinguished his people, and 
which at that time made its way everywhere with the lan- 
guage that embodied it, and was the object of universal 
admiration ; they could therefore plead a higher justification 



SECT. III. THE REFORMATION AND THE STATE. 451 

than those of the German Emperor. But the very rock on 
which the vast niilitary resources of Philip 11. had al- 
ready foundered — the heroic resistance of the Dutch — proved 
fatal also to the ambitious schemes of Louis. Charles the 
Twelfth also presented, a remarkably menacing aspect ; but 
his ambition had a Quixotic tiuge and was less sustained by 
intrinsic vigour. Through all these storms the nations of 
Europe succeeded in maintaining their individuality and 
independence. 

An external relation in which the States of Europe had 
an interest in common, was that sustained to the TurJcs — 
the terrible power which threatened to overwhelm Europe 
from the East. The Turks of that day had still a sound and 
vigorous nationality, whose power was based on conquest, and 
which was therefore engaged in constant warfare, or at least 
admitted only a temporary suspension of arms. As was 
the case among the Eranks, the conquered territories were 
divided among their warriors as personal, not heritable pos- 
sessions ; when in later times the principle of hereditary 
succession was adopted, the national vigour was shattered. 
The flower of the Osman force, the Janizaries, were the 
terror of the Europeans. Their ranks were recruited from 
a body of Christian boys of handsome and vigorous propor- 
tions, brought together chiefly by means of aunual con- 
scriptions among the G-reek subjects of the Porte, strictly 
educated in the Moslem faith, and exercised in arms from 
early youth. Without parents, without brothers or sisters, 
without wives, they were, like the monks, an altogether 
isolated and terrible corps. The Eastern European powers 
were obliged to make common cause against the Turks — viz.: 
Austria, Hungary, Venice and Poland. The battle of Le- 
panto saved Italy, and perhaps all Europe, from a barbarian 
inundation. 

An event of special importance following in the train of 
the Reformation was the struggle of the Frotestant Church 
for political existence. The Protestant Church, even in 
its original aspect, was too intimately connected with secular 
interests not to occasion secular complications and political 
contentions respecting political possession. The subjects 
of Catholic princes become Protestant, have and make 
claims to ecclesiastical property, change the nature of the 

2 g2 



452 PAKT IV. THE GEllMAX WORLD. 

tenure, and repudiate or decline the discharge of those 
ecclesiastical functions to whose due performance the emo- 
luments are attached (jura stolce). Moreover a Catholic 
government is bound to be the hracMum seculare of the 
Church ; the Inquisition, e.g, never put a man to death, but 
simply declared him a heretic, as a kind of jury; he was then 
punished according to civil laws. Again, innumerable occa- 
sions of offence and irritation originated with processions and 
feasts, the carrying of the Host through the streets, with- 
drawals from convents, &c. Still more excitement would be 
felt when an Archbishop of Cologne attempted to make his 
archiepiscopate a secular princedom for himself and his 
family. Their confessors made it a matter of conscience 
with Catholic princes to wrest estates that had been the 
property of the Churcli out of the hands of the heretics. 
In Germany, however, the condition of things was favour- 
able to Protestantism in as far as the several territories 
which had been imperial fiefs, had become independent 
principalities. But in countries like Austria, the princes 
were indifferent to Protestants, or even hostile to them ; 
and in France they were not safe in the exercise of 
their religion except as protected by fortresses. War was 
the indispensable preliminary to the security of Protestants ; 
for the question was not one of simple conscience, but in- 
volved decisions respecting public and private property 
which had been taken possession of in contravention of the 
rights of the Church, and whose restitution it demanded. 
A condition of absolute mistrust supervened ; absolute, 
because mistrust bound up with the religious conscience 
was its root. The Protestant princes and towns formed at 
that time a feeble union, and the defensive operations they 
conducted were much feebler still. After they had been 
worsted, Maurice the Elector of Saxony, by an utterly unex- 
pected and adventurous piece of daring, extorted a peace, it- 
self of doubtful interpretation, and which left the real sources 
of embitterment altogether untouched. It M^as necessary to 
fight out the battle from the very beginning. This took 
place in the Thirty Years' War, in which first Denmark and 
then Sweden undertook the cause of freedom. The former 
was compelled to quit the field, but the latter under Gustavus 
Adolphus— that hero of the North of glorious memory — 
played a part which was so mucli the more brilliant inas- 



SECT. III. THE HEEORMATION AND THE STATE. 453 

much as it began to wage war with the vast force of the 
Catholics, alone— without the help of the Protestant states 
of the Empire. The powers of Europe, with a few excep- 
tions, precipitate themselves on Grermany, — flowing back 
towards it as to the fountain from which they had originally 
issued, and where now the right of inwardness that has 
come to manifest itself in the sphere of religion, and that of 
internal independence and severalty is to be fought out. 
The struggle ends without an Ideal result — without having 
attained the consciousness of a principle as an . intellectual 
concept— in the exhaustion of all parties, in a scene of utter 
desolation, where all the conteuding forces have been 
wrecked ; it issues in letting parties simply take their course 
and maintain their existence on the basis of external power. 
The issue is in fact exclusively of a. political nature. 

In England also, war was indispensable to the establish- 
ment of the Protestant OJiurch : the struggle was in this 
case directed against the sovereigns, who were secretly at- 
tached to Catholicism because they found the principle of 
absolute sway confirmed by its doctrines. The fanaticised 
people rebelled against the assumption of absolute sovereign 
power — importing that Kings are responsible to God alone 
{i.e. to the leather Confessor) — and in opposition to Catholic 
externality, unfurled the banner of extreme subjectivity in 
Puritanism — a principle which, developing itself in the real 
world, presents an aspect partly of enthusiastic elevation, 
partly of ridiculous incongruity. The enthusiasts of Eng- 
land, like those of MUnster, were for having the State 
governed directly by the fear of Grod ; the soldiery sharing 
the same fanatical views prayed while they fought for the 
cause they had espoused. But a military leader now has 
the physical force of the country and consequently the 
government in his hands : for in the State there must be 
government, and Cromwell knew what governing is. He, 
therefore, made himself ruler, and sent that praying parlia- 
ment about their business. "With his death however his 
right to authority vanished also, and the old dynasty regained 
possession of the throne. Catholicism, we may observe, 
is commended to the support of princes as promoting the 
security of their government — a position supposed to be par- 
ticularly manifest if the Inquisition be connected with the 



454 PAET IT. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

government ; the former constituting the bulwark of the 
latter. Biit such a security is based on a slavish religious 
obedience, and is limited to those grades of human deve- 
lopment in which the political constitution and the whole 
legal system still rest on the basis of actual positive posses- 
sion ; but if the constitution and laws are to be founded on 
a veritable eternal Eight, then security is to be found only 
in the Protestant religion, in whose principle ^Rational Sub- 
jective Freedom also attains development. The Dutch too 
offered a vigorous opposition to the Catholic principle as 
bound up with the Spanish sovereignty. Belgium was stiR 
attached to ihe Catholic religion and remained subject to 
Spain : on the contrary, the northern part of the Nether- 
lands — Holland — stood its ground with heroic valour against 
its oppressors. The trading class, the guilds and companies 
of marksmen formed a militia whose heroic courage was 
more than a match for the then fiimous Spanish infantry. 
Just as the Swiss peasants had resisted the chivalry of 
Austria, so here the trading cities held out against disciplined 
troops. During this struggle on the Continent itself, the 
Dutch fitted out fleets and deprived the Spaniards of part 
of their colonial possessions, from which all their wealth 
was derived. As independence was secured to Holland in 
its holding to the Protestant principle, so that of Poland 
was lost through its endeavour to suppress that principle in 
the case of dissidents. 

Through the Peace of Westphalia the Protestant Church 
had been acknowledged as an independent one — to the great 
confusion and humiliation of Catholicism. This peace has 
often passed for the palladium of Germany, as having estab- 
lished its political constitution. But this constitution was 
in fact a confirmation of the particular rights of the countries 
into which Germany had been broken up. It involves no 
thought, no conception of the proper aim of a state. We 
should consult " Hippolytus a lapide " (a book which, written 
before the conclusion of the peace, had a great influence on 
the condition of the Empire) if we would become acquainted 
with the character of that German freedom of which so much 
is made. In the peace in question the establishment of a 
complete particularity, the determination of all relations on 
the principle of private right is the object manifestly con- 



SECT. III. THE REEOEMATION AND THE STATE, lf55 

templated — a constituted anarchy, such as the world had never 
before seen ; — i.e. the position that an Empire is properly a 
unity, a totality, a state, while yet all relations are deter- 
mined so exclusively on the principle of private right that 
the privilege of all the constituent parts of that Empire to 
act for themselves contrarily to the interest of the whole, 
or to neglect that which its interest demands and which is 
even required by law, — is guaranteed and secured by the 
most inviolable sanctions. Immediately after this settle- 
ment, it was shewn what the German Empire was as a state 
in relation to other states : it waged ignominious wars with 
the Turks, for deliverance from whom Vienna was indebted 
to Poland. Still more ignominious was its relation to 
Erance, which took possession in time of peace of free cities, 
the bulwarks of Grermany, and of flourishing provinces, and 
retained them undisturbed. 

This constitution, which completely terminated the career 
of Grermany as an Empire, was chiefly the work of Bicheliei(,, 
by whose assistance — B/Omish Cardinal though he was — 
religious freedom in Germany was preserved. [Richelieu, 
with a view to further the interests of the State whose 
aff'airs he superintended, adopted the exact opposite of that 
policy which he promoted in the case of its enemies ; for 
he reduced the latter to political impotence by ratifying the 
political independence of the several parts of the Empire, 
while at home he destroyed the independence of the Protes- 
tant party. His fate has consequently resembled that of 
many great statesmen, inasmuch as he has been cursed by his 
countrymen, while his enemies have looked upon the work 
by which he ruined them as the most sacred goal of their 
desires, —the consummation of their rights and liberties. 

The result of the struggle therefore was the forcibly 
achieved and now politically ratified coexistence of religious 
parties, forming political communities whose relations are 
determined according to prescriptive principles of civil or 
[rather, for such their true nature was,] of private right. 

The Protestant Church increased and so perfected the 
stability of its political existence by the fact that one of the 
states which had adopted the principles of the Eeformation 
raised itself to the position of an independent European 
power. This power was destined to start into a new life 



456 PART JV. TUE GERMAN' WORLD. 

with Protestantism : Prussia, viz., Wnich making its appear- 
ance at the end of the seventeenth century, was indebted, 
if not for origination, yet certainly for the consolidation of 
its strength, to Frederick the Great ; and the Seven Tears' 
War was the struggle by which that consolidation was ac- 
complished. Frederick II. demonstrated the independent 
vigour of his power by resisting that of almost all Europe — 
the union of its leading states. He appeared as the hero 
of Protestantism, and that not individually merely, like 
Grustavus Adolphus, but as the ruler of a state. The Seven 
Years' War was indeed in itself not a war of religion ; but 
it was so in view of its ultimate issues, and in the disposi- 
tion of the soldiers as well as of the potentates under whose 
banner they fought. The Pope consecrated the sword of 
Field-Marshal Daun, and the chief object which the Allied 
Powers proposed to themselves, was the crushing of Prussia 
as the bulwark of the Protestant Church. But Frederick 
the Great not only made Prussia one of the great powers of 
Europe as a Protestant power, but was also a philosophical 
King — an altogether peculiar and unique phenomenon in 
modern times. There had been EngHsh Kings who were 
subtle theologians, contending for the principle of abso- 
lutism: Frederick on the contrary took up the Protestant 
principle in its secular aspect ; and though he was by no 
means favourable to religious controversies, and did not side 
\\\t\\ one party or the other, he had the consciousness of 
Universality, which is the profoundest depth to which Spirit 
can attain, and is Thought conscious of its own inherent 
power. 



CHAPTEE III. 

THE ECLAIRCISSEMENT AND REVOLUTION.* 

Protestantism had introduced the principle of Sub- 
jectivity, importing religious emancipation and inward har- 

• There is no current term in English denoting' that great intellectual 
movement which dates from the first quarter of the eighteenth century, 
and which, if not the chief cause, was certainly the guiding genius of the 
French Revolution. The word " IlluniinHti," (signifying the members of 
«n imaginary confederacy for propagating the open secret of the day) might 
suggest "Illumination," as an equiviilenc tor the German " Aufklirung ;" 
but the French " Eclairci^senient " conveys a more specific idea. — Tr. 



SECT. III. THE ECLATECISSEMEXT AIS'D REVOLUTION. 457 

mony, but accompanying this with the helief in Subjectivity 
as Evil, and in a power [adverse to man's highest interests] 
whose embodiment is *'the World." Within the Catholic 
pale also, the casuistry of the Jesuits brought into vogue 
interminable investigations, as tedious and wire-drawn as 
those in which the scholastic theology delighted, respecting 
the subjective spring of the Will and the motives that affect 
it. This Dialectic, which unsettles all particular judgments 
and opinions, transmuting the Evil into Grood and Grood 
into Evil, left at last iiothing remaining but the mere action 
of subjectivity itself, the Abstractum of Spirit — Thought. 
Thought contemplates everything under the form of Uni- 
versality, and is consequently the impulsion towards and 
production of the Universal. In that elder scholastic the- 
ology the real subject-matter of investigation — the doctrine 
of the Church, remained an ultramundane affair; in the Pro- 
testant theology also Spirit still sustained a relation to the 
Ultramundane ; for on the one side we have the will of the 
individual —the Spirit of Man — I myself, and on the other 
the Grace of Grod, the Holy Grhost ; and so in the Wicked, 
the Devil. But in Thought, Self moves within the limits 
of its own sphere ; that with which it is occupied— its objects 
are as absolutely present to it [as they were distinct and 
separate in the intellectual grade above mentioned] ; for in 
thinking I must elevate the object to Universality.* This 
is utter and absolute Freedom, for the pure Ego, like pure 
Light, is with itself alone [is not involved with any alien 
principle] ; thus that which is diverse from itself, sensuous 
or spiritual, no longer presents an object of dread, for in con- 
templating such diversity it is inwardly free and can freely 
confront it. A practical interest makes use of, consumes the 
objects offered to it : a theoretical interest calmly contem- 
plates them, assured that in themselves they present no alien 
element. — Consequently, the ne plus ultra of Inwardness, 
of Subjectiveness, is Thought. Man is not free, when he is 

* Abstractions {pure thoughts,) are, vi termini^ detached fi'om the 
material objects which sug-g'ested them, and are at least as evidently the 
product of the thinking mind as of the external world. Hence they are 
ridiculed by the unintelligent as mere fancies. In proportion as such 
abstractions involve activity and intensity of thought, the mind may be 
said to be occupied with itself in contemplating them. — Tr. 



45S PAKT IV. THE GERMAN WOELD. 

not thinking : for except when thus engaged he sustains a rela- 
tion to the world around him as to an other, an alien form of 
being. This comprehension — the penetration of the Ego into 
and beyond other forms of being with the most profound self- 
certainty, [the identity of subjective and objective Keason 
being recognized,] directly involves the harmonization of 
Being : for it must be observed that the unity of Thought with 
its Object is already impliciily present \i.e. in the fundamental 
constitution of the Universe,] for Reason is the substantial 
basis of Consciousness as well as of the External and 
Natural. Thus that which presents itself as the Object of 
Thought is no longer an absolutely distinct form of existence 
[ein Jenseits], not ot an alien and grossly substantial, [as 
opposed to intelligible,] nature. 

Thought is the grade to which Spirit has now advanced. 
It involves the Harmony of Being in its purest essence, 
challenging the external world to exhibit the same Reason 
whidi Subject [the Ego] possesses. Spirit perceives that 
Nature — the World — must also be an embodiment of Eeason, 
for Grod created it on principles of Eeason. An interest in 
the contemplation and comprehension of the present world 
became universal. Nature embodies Universality, inasmuch 
as it is nothing other than Sorts, G-enera, Power, Gravitation, 
&c., phenomenallv presented. Thus Experimental Science 
became the science of the AVorld ; for experimental science 
involves on the one hand the observation of phenomena, 
on the. other hand also the discovery of the Law, the essen-^ 
tial being, the hidden force that causes those phenomena — 
thus reducing the data supplied by observation to their 
simple principles. Intellectual consciousness was first ex- 
tricated from that sophistry of thought, which unsettles 
everything, by Descartes. As it was the purely Grerman 
nations among whom the principle of Spirit first manifested 
itself, so it was by the Eomanic nations that the abstract 
idea (to which the character assigned them above — viz., that 
of internal schism, more readily conducted them) was first 
compTehended. Experimental science therefore very soon 
made its way among them (in common with the Protest- 
ant English), but especially among the Italians. It seemed 
to men as if God had but just created the moon and stars, 
plants and animals, as if the laws of the universe were now 



SECT. III. THE ECLAIECISSEMENT AJSi) REVOLUTION. 459 

established for the first time ; for only then did they feel a 
real interest in the universe, when they recognized their own 
Beason in the Eeason which pervades it. The human eye 
became clear, perception quick, thought active and interpre- 
tative. The discovery of the laws of Nature enabled men 
to contend against the monstrous superstition of the time, 
cs also against all notions of mighty alien powers which 
magic alone could conquer. The assertion was even ven- 
tured on, and that by Catholics not less than by Protestants, 
that the External [and Material], with which the Church 
insisted upon associating superhuman virtue, was external 
and material, and nothing more — that the Host was simply 
dough, the relics of the Saints mere hones. The independent 
authority of Subjectivity was maintained against belief 
founded on authority, and the Laws of Nature were recog- 
nized as the only bond connecting phenomena with phe- 
nomena. Thus all miracles were disallowed: for Nature 
is a system of known and recognized Laws ; Man is at home 
in it, and that only passes for truth in which he finds himself 
at home ; he is free through the acquaintance he has gained 
with Nature. Nor was thought less vigorously directed to 
the Spiritual side of things : Eight and [Social] Morality 
came to be looked upon as having their foundation in the 
actual present Will of man, whereas formerly it was referred 
only to the command of God enjoined db extra, written in 
the Old and New Testament, or appearing in the form of 
particular E-ight [as opposed to that based on geneual prin- 
ciples] in old parchments, as privilegia, or in international 
compacts. What the nations acknowledge as international 
Bight was deduced empirically from observation (as in the 
work of Grotius) ; then the source of the existing civil and 
political law was looked for, after Cicero's fashion, in those 
instincts of men which Nature has planted in their hearts — 
e.g., the social instinct ; next the principle of security for the 
person and property of the citizens, and of the advantage of the 
commonwealth — that which belongs to the class of " reasons 
of State." On these principles private rights were on the 
one hand despotically contravened, but on the other hand such 
contravention was the instrument of carrying out the general 
objects of the State in opposition to mere positive or pre- 



460 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

scriptive claims. Frederick II. may be mentioned as the 
ruler who inaugurated tlie new epoch in the sphere of prac- 
tical life — that epoch in which practical political interest 
attains Universality [is recognized as an abstract principle], 
and receives an absolute sanction. Frederick II. merits especial 
notice as having comprehended the general object of the 
State, and as having been the first sovereign who kept the 
general interest of the State steadily in view, ceasing to 
pay any respect to particular interests when they stood in 
the way of the common weal. His immortal work is a 
domestic code — the Prussian municipal law. How the head 
of a household energetically provides and governs with a view 
to the weal of that household and of his dependents — of 
this he has given a unique specimen. 

These general conceptions, deduced from actual and present 
consciousness — the Laws of IS'ature and the substance of 
what is right and good — have received the name of Reason. 
The recognition of the validity of these laws was designated 
by the term Eclair cissement (Aufkliirung). From France it 
passed over into Germany, and created a new world of ideas. 
The absolute criterion — taking the place of all authority 
based on religious belief and positive laws of Right (especially 
political Right) — is the verdict passed by Spirit itself on the 
character of that which is to be believed or obeyed. After a 
free investigation in open day, Luther had secured to man- 
kind Spiritual Freedom and the Reconciliation [of the Ob- 
jective ♦and Subjective] in the concrete: he triumphantly 
established the position that man's eternal destiny [his 
spiritual and moral position] must be wrought out in liimself 
[cannot be an opus operatum, a work performed for him]. 
But the import of that which is to take place in him — what 
truth is to become vital in him, was taken for granted by 
Luther as something already given, something revealed by 
religion. Now the principle was set up that this import 
must be capable of actual investigation — something of which 
I [in this modern time] can gain an inward conviction — and 
that to this basis of inward demonstration every dogma must 
be referred. 

This principle of thought makes its appearance in the first 
instance in a general and abstract form ; and is based on the 



SECT. III. THE ECLAIECISSEMENT AND KEVOLUTIOH^. 461 

axiom of Contradiction and Identity.* The results of 
thought are thus posited as finite, and the eclaircissement 
utterly banished and extirpated all that was speculative from 
things human and divine. Although it is of incalculable im- 
portance that the multiform complex of things should be 
reduced to its simplest conditions, and brought into the form 
of Universality, yet this still abstract principle does not 
satisfy the living Spirit, the concrete human soul. 

This formally absolute principle brings us to the last stage 
in History, our world, our own time. 

Secular life is the positive and definite embodiment of the 
Spiritual Kingdom — the Kingdom of the Will manifesting 
itself in outward existence. Mere impulses are also forms 
in which the inner life realizes itself; but these are transient 
and disconnected ; they are tlie ever changing applications 
of volition. But that which is just and moral belongs to the 
essential, independent, iutrinsu-ally universal Will; and if 
we would know what E-ight really is, we must abstract from 
inclination, impulse and desire as the particular ; i.e., we 
must know what the Will is in itself. For benevolent, 
charitable, social impulses are nothing more than impulses — 
to which others of a different class are opposed. What the 
Will is in itself can be known only when these specific and 
contradictory forms of volition have been eliminated. Then 
Will appears as Will, in its abstract essence. The Will is 
Free only when it does not will anything alien, extrinsic, 
foreign to itself (for as long as it does so, it is dependent), 
but wills itself alone — wills the Will. This is absolute Will 
— the volition to be free. Will making itself its own object 
is the basis of all Eight and Obligation — consequently of all 
statutory determinations of Eight, categorical imperatives, 
and enjoined obligations. The Freedom of the Will^er se, 
is the principle and substantial basis of all Eight — is itself 
absolute, inherently eternal Eight, and the Supreme Eight in 

* The sensational conclusions of the " materialistic" school of the 18th 
century aie reached by the " axiom of Contradiction and Identity," as 
applied in this simple dilemma: " In cog-nition, Man is either active or 
passive ; he is not active (unless he is grossly deceiving himself), therefore 
he is passive; therefore all knowledji-e is derived al) extra." What 
this external objective being is of which this knowledge is the cognition, 
remains an eternal mystery — i.e., as Hegel says : "The results of thought 
are posited as finite." — Tr. 



402 PART lY. THE GEEMA^ "«ORLD. 

comparison with other specific Eights ; nay, it is even that 
by which Man becomes Man, and is therefore the funda- 
mental principle of Spirit. But the next question is : How 
does Will assume a definite form r For in willing itself, it 
is nothing but an identical reference to itself; but, in point 
of fact, it wills something specific : there are, we know, 
distinct and special Duties and Kights. A particular appli- 
cation, a definite form of Will, is desiderated ; for pure Will 
is its own object, its own application, which, as far as this 
shewing goes, is no object, no application. In fact, in this 
form it is nothing more than formal Will. But the meta- 
physical process by which this abstract Will develops itself, 
so as to attain a definite form of Freedom, and how Rights 
and Duties are evolved therefrom, this is not the place to 
discuss.* It may however be remarked that the same prin- 
ciple obtained speculative recognition in Grermauy, in the 
Kantian Philosophy. According to it the simple unity ot 
Self-consciousness, the Ego, constitutes the absolutely inde- 
pendeut Freedom, and is the fountain of all general concep- 
tions — i.e. all conceptions elaborated by Thought — Theoreti- 
cal Eeason ; and likewise of the highest of all practical deter- 
minations [or coDceptions] — Practical Eeason, as free and 
pure Will ; and Eationality of Will is none other than the 
maintaining one's self in pure Freedom — willing this and 
this alone — Eight purely for the sake of Eight, Duty purely 
for the sake of Duty. Among the Germans this view 
assumed no other form than that of tranquil theory ; but 
the French wished to give it practical efiect. Two ques- 
tions, therefore, suggest themselves : Why did this principle 

* "Freedom of the Will," in Hegel's use of the term, has an intensive 
sig'nification, and must be disting'uished from " Liberty of Will" in its 
ordinary acceptation. The latter denotes a mere liability to be aflfected 
by extrinsic motives : the former is that absolute strenjjth of Will which 
enables it to defy all seductions that challeng^e its persistency. Its sole 
object is self-assertion. In fact it is Individuality maintaining itselt 
against all dividing or distracting forces. And to maintain individuality 
is to preserve consistency — to " act on principle,'' — phrases with which 
Language, the faithful conservator of metaphysical genealogies, connects 
virtuous associadons. In adopting a code of Duties, and in acknowledging 
Rights, the Will recognizes its own Freedom in this intensive sense, lor 
in such adoption it declares its own abiUty to pursue a certain course of 
action in s]ite of all inducements, sensuous or emotional, to deviate from it. 
Thesb remarks may supply sonie indications of the process referred to in 
the text.— Tr. 



SECT. III. ECLAIRCISSEMENT AJTD THE EEYOLUTION. 463 

of Freedom remain merely formal ?* and why did the French 
alone, and not the Grermans, set about realizing it ? 

"With the formal principle more significant categories were 
indeed connected : one of the chief of these (for instance) 
was Society, and that which is advantageous for Society : 
but the aim of Society is itself political — that of the State 
(vid. "Droits de I'homme et du citoyen," 1791) — the con- 
servation of Natural Eights ; but Natural Right is Freedom, 
and, as further determined, it is Equality of Eights before 
the Law. A direct connection is manifest here, for Equality, 
Parity, i^ the result of the comj?«Wson of many ;t the "Many" 
in question being human beings, whose essential character- 
istic is the same, viz. Freedom. That principle remains 
formal, because it originated with abstract Thought — with 
the Understanding, which is primarily the self-consciousness 
of Pure Eeason, and as direct [unreflected, undeveloped] is 
abstract. i\s yet, nothing further is developed from it, for 
it still maintains an adverse position to Eeligion, i.e. to the 
concrete absolute substance of the Universe. 

As respects the second question, — why the French imme- 
diately passed over from the theoretical to the practical, 
while the Grermans contented themselves with theoretical 
abstraction, it might be said : the French are hotheaded [ils 
ont la tete pres du bonnet] ; but this is a superficial solution : 
the fact is that the formal principle of philosophy in Ger- 
many encounters a concrete real World in which Spirit 
finds inward satisfaction and in which conscience is at rest. 
For on the one hand it was the Protestant ^orZc? itself whi(5h 
advanced so far in Thought as to realize the absolute cul- 
mination of Self- Consciousness ; on the other hand, Protest- 
antism enjoys, with respect to the moral and legal relations 
of the real world, a tranquil confidence in the [Honourable] 

* " Formal Freedom " is mere liberty to do what one likes. It is called 
^''formal, " because, as already indicated, the matter of volition — what it is 
that is willed — is left entirely undetermined. In the next parag-raph the 
writer g-oes on to shew that some definite object was associated with a sen- 
/ment otherwise unmeaning' or bestial, " Vive la Liberte !'' — Tr. 

f The radical correspondence of " G/eicAAeif' and '^Ver^/leic hung" is 
attempted to be rendered in English by the terms parity and covaparison , 
and perhaps etymology may justify the expedient. The meaning of the 
derivative " comparatio" seems to point to the connection of its root *' paro'' 
with "par." — Tr. 



4d4 part IV. THE GEEMAN WOELD. 

Disposition of men — a sentiment, which, [in the Protestant 
World,] constituting one and the same thing with B-eligion, 
is the fountain of all the equitable arrangements that prevail 
with regard to private right and the constitution of the 
State.* In Germany the eclaircissement was conducted in 
the interest of theology : in France it immediately took up 
a position of hostility to the Church. In Germany the en- 
tire compass of secular relations had already undergone a 
change for the better ; those pernicious ecclesiastical insti- 
tutes of celibacy, voluntary pauperism, and laziness, had been 
already done away with ; there was no dead weight of enor- 
mous wealth attached to the Church, and no constraint put 
upon Morality, — a constraint which is the source and occa- 
sion of vices ; there was not that unspeakably hurtful form 
of iniquity which arises from the interference of spiritual 
power with secular law, nor that other of the Divine Eight 
of Kings, i.e. the doctrine that the arbitrary will of princes, 
in virtue of their being " the Lord's Anointed," is divine and 
holy : on the contrary their will is regarded as deserving of 
respect only so far as in association with reason, it wisely con- 
templates Eight, Justice, and the weal of the community. 
The principle of Thought, therefore, had been so far concili- 
ated already ; moreover the Protestant "World had a convic- 
tion that in the Harmonization which had previously been 
evolved [in the ^sphere of Eeligion] the principle which would 
result in a further development of equity in the political 
sphere was already present. 

Consciousness that has received an abstract culture, and 
whose sphere is the Understanding [Yerstand] can be in- 
different to Eeligion, but Eeligion is the general form in 
which Truth exists for oion-ah struct consciousness. And the 
Protestant Eeligion does not admit of two kinds of con- 
sciences, while in the Catholic world the Holy stands on the 
one side and on the other side abstraction opposed to Eeligion, 
that is to its superstition and its truth. That formal, indi- 
vidual Will is in virtue oi me abstract position just mentioned 
made the basis of political theories ; Eight in Society is that 
which the Law wills, and the WiU in question appears as 

* This moral aspect of Protestantism is discussed more fully in p. 88 
of the Introduction. 



SECT. III. THE ECLAIRCISSEMENT AND EEVOLUTION. 465 

an isolated individual will ; thus the State, as an aggregate 
of many individuals, is not an independently substantial Unity, 
and the truth and essence of Eight in and for itself^to 
which the will of its individual members ought to be con- 
formed in order to be true, free Will; but the volitional 
atoms [the individual wills of the members of the State] are 
made the starting point, and each will is represented as ab- 
solute. 

An intellectual principle was thus discovered to serve as a 
basis for the State — one which does not, like previous princi- 
ples, belong to the sphere of opinion, such as the social im- 
pulse, the desire of security for property, &c. nor owe its ori- 
gin to the religious sentiment, as does that of the Divine ap- 
pointment of the governing power, — but the principle of 
Certainty, which is identity with my self-consciousness, stop- 
ping short however of that of Truth, which needs to be dis- 
tinguished from it. This is a vast discovery in regard to the 
profoundest depths of being and Freedom. The conscious- 
ness of the Spiritual is now the essential basis of the political 
fabric, and Philosophy has thereby become dominant. It has 
been said, that the French Revolution resulted from Philo- 
sophy, and it is not without reason that Philosophy has been 
called " Weltweisheit" [World Wisdom ;] for it is not only 
Truth in and for itself, as the pure essence of things, but 
also Truth in its living form as exhibited in the affairs of 
the world. We should not, therefore, contradict the asser- 
tion that the Eevolution received its first impulse from Phi- 
losophy. But this philosophy is in the first instance only 
abstract Thought, not the concrete comprehension of abso- 
lute Truth— intellectual positions between which there is an 
immeasurable chasm. 

The principle of the Preedom of the Will, therefore, as- 
serted itself against existing Eight. Before the Prench 
Eevolution, it must be allowed, the power of the grandees 
had been diminished by Eichelieu, and they had been de- 
prived of privileges ; but, like the clergy, they retained all 
the prerogatives which gave them an advantage over the 
lower class. The political condition of Prance at that time 
presents nothing but a confused mass of privileges altogether 
contravening Thought and Eeason, — an utterly irrational 
state of things, and one with which the greatest corruption 

2h 



466 PART lY. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

of morals, of Spirit was associated — an empire characterized 
by Destitution of Eight, and which, when its real state begins 
to be recognized, becomes shameless destitution of Eight. 
The fearfully heavy burdens that pressed upon the people, the 
embarrassment of the government to procure for theCourtthe 
means of supporting luxury and extravagance, gave the first 
impulse to discontent. The new Spirit began to agitate men's 
minds : oppression drove men to investigation. It was per- 
ceived that the sums extorted from the people were not ex- 
pended in furthering the objects of the State, but were 
lavished in the most unreasonable fashion. The entire po- 
litical system appeared one mass of injustice. The change 
was necessarily violent, because the work of transformation 
was not undertaken by the government. And the reason 
why the government did not undertake it was that the Court, 
the Clergy, the Nobility, the Parliaments themselves, were 
unwilling to surrender the privileges they possessed, either 
for the sake of expediency or that of abstract Eight ; more- 
over, because the government as the concrete centre of the 
power of the State, could not adopt as its principle ab- 
stract individual wills, and reconstruct the State on this basis ; 
lastly, because it was Catholic, and therefore the Idea of 
Freedom— Eeason embodied in Laws — did not pass for the 
final absolute obligation, since the Holy and the religious 
conscience are separated from them. The conception, the 
idea of Eight asserted its authority all at once, and the old 
framework of injustice could offer no resistance to its on- 
slaught. A constitution, therefore, was established in har- 
mony with the conception of Eight, and on this foundation 
all future legislation was to be based. Never since the sun had 
stood in the firmament and the planets revolved around him 
had it been perceived that man's existence centres in his head, 
i.e. in Thought, inspired by which he builds up the world of 
reality. Anaxagoras had been the first to say that vovq governs 
the World ; but not until now had man advanced to the re- 
cognition of the principle that Thought ought to govern spi- 
ritual reality. This was accordingly a glorious mental dawn. 
All thinking beings shared in the jubilation of this epoch. 
Emotions of a lofty character stirred men's minds at that 
time; a spiritual enthusiasm thrilled through the world, as if 
the reconciliation between the Divine and the Secular was 
now first accomplished. 



SECT. III. THE ECLAIRCISSEMENT AND KEVOLTJTIOIS . 467 

The two following points must now occupy our attention : 
1st. The course which the Eevolutiou in France took; 2nd. 
How that K-e volution became World-Historical. 

1. Freedom presents two aspects : the one concerns its 
substance and purport,— its objectivity — the thing itself — 
[that which is performed as a free act] ; the other relates to 
the Form of Freedom, involving the consciousness of his 
activity on the part of the individual ; for Freedom demands 
that the individual recognize himself in such acts, that they 
should be veritably his, it being his interest that the result 
in question should be attained. The three elements and 
powers of the State in actual worki'^g must be contem- 
plated according to the above analysis, their examination 
in detail being referred to the Lectures on the Philosophy 
of Right. 

(1.) Laws of B/ationality — of intrinsic Eight— Objective 
or Eeal Freedom : to this category belongs Freedom of 
Property and Freedom of Person. Those relics of that 
condition of servitude which the feudal relation had intro- 
duced are hereby swept away, and all those fiscal ordinances 
which were the bequest of the feudal law— its tithes and 
dues, are abrogated. Eeal [practical] Liberty requires more- 
over freedom in regard to trades and professions — the per- 
mission to every one to use his abilities without restriction — 
and the free admission to all offices of State. This is a sum- 
mary of the elements of real Freedom, and which are not 
based on feeling,— for feeling allows of the continuance even 
of serfdom and slavery, — but on the thought and self-con- 
sciousness of man recognizing the spiritual character of his 
existence. 

(2.) But the agency which gives the laws practical effect 
is the Government- geneY?iW.j. Grovernment is primarily the 
formal execution of the laws and the maintenance of their 
authority : in respect to foreign relations it prosecutes the 
interest of the State; that is, it assists the independence of 
the nation as an individuality against other nations ; lastly, 
it has to provide for the internal weal of the State and all 
its classes — what is called administration: for it is not enough 
that the citizen is allowed to pursue a trade or calling, it 
must also be a source of gain to him; rt is not enough that 
men are permitted to use their powers, they must also fiod 



468 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

an opportunity of applying them to purpose. Thus the 
State involves a body of abstract principles and a practical 
application of them. This application must be the work of 
a subjective Avill, a will which resolves and decides. Legis- 
lation itself, — the invention and positive enactment of these 
statutory arrangements, is an application of such general 
principles. The next step, then, consists in [specific] deter- 
mination and execution. Here then the question presents 
itself: what is the decisive will to be ? The ultimate decision 
is the prerogative of the monarch : but if the State is based 
on Liberty, the many wills of individuals also desire to have 
a share in political decisions. But the Many are All; 
and it seems but a poor expedient, rather a monstrous in- 
consistency, to allow only a few to take part in those deci- 
sions, since each wishes that his volition should have a share 
in determining what is to be law for him. The Few assume 
to be the deputies, but they are often only the despoilers of the 
Many. Nor is the sway of the Majority over the Minority a 
less palpable inconsistency. 

(3.) This collision of subjective wills leads therefore to 
the consideration of a third point, that of Disposition — an 
ex animo acquiescence in the laws ; not the mere customary 
observance of them, but the cordial recognition of laws and the 
Constitution as in principle fixed and immutable, and of the 
supreme obligation of individuals to subject their particular 
wills to them. There may be various opinions and views 
respecting laws, constitution and government, but there 
must be a disposition on the part of the citizens to regard 
all these opinions as subordinate to the substantial interest 
of the State, and to insist upon them no farther than that in- 
terest will allow; moreover nothing must be considered higher 
and more sacred than good will toward's the State ; or, if 
Religion be looked upon as higher and more sacred, it must 
involve nothing really alien or opposed to the Constitution. 
It is, indeed, regarded as a maxim of the profoundest wisdom 
entirely to separate the laws and constitution of the State 
from Eeligion, since bigotry and hypocrisy are to be 
feared as the results of a State E^eligion. But although the 
aspects of E-eligion and the State are different, they are 
radically one; and the laws find their highest confirmation 
in Keligion. 



dEOT III. THE ECLAIBCISSEMEKT AND REVOLUTION. 469 

Here it must be frankly stated, that with the Catholic 
Religon no rational constitution is possible ; for Govern- 
ment and People must reciprocate that final guarantee of 
Disposition, and can have it only in a Religion that is not 
opposed to a rational political constitution. 

Plato in his Republic makes everything depend upon the 
Government, and makes Disposition the principle of the 
State ; on which account he lays the chief stress on Education. 
The modern theory is diametrically opposed to this, refer- 
ring everything to the individual will. But here we have 
no guarantee that the will in question has that right dispo- 
sition which is essential to the stability of the State. 

In view then of these leading considerations we have to 
trace the course of the French Revolution and the remodel- 
ling of the State in accordance with tlie Idea of Right. In 
the first instance purely abstract philosophical principles 
were set up: Disposition and Religion were not. taken into 
account. The first Constitutional form of Government in 
France was one which recognized Royalty ; the monarch 
was to stand at the head of the State, and on him in conjunc- 
tion with his Mimisters was to devolve the executive power ; 
the legislative body on the other hand were to make the 
laws. But this constitution involved from the very first 
an internal contradiction ; for the legislature absorbed the 
whole power of the administration : the budget, affairs of 
war and peace, and the levying of the armed force were in 
the hands of the Legislative Chamber. Everything was 
brought under the head of Law. The budget however is 
in its nature something diverse from law, for it is annually 
renewed, and the power to which it properly belongs is that 
of the Government. With this moreover is connected the 
indirect nomination of the ministry and ofiacers of state, &c. 
The government was thus transferred to the Legislative 
Chamber, as in England to the Parliament. This constitu- 
tion was also vitiated by the existence of absolute mistrust ; 
the dynasty lay under suspicion, because it had lost the 
power it formerly enjoyed, and the priests refused the oath. 
Neither government nor constitution could be maintained 
on this footing, and the ruin of both was the result. A go- 
vernment of some kind however is always in existence. The 
question presents itself then, Whence did it emanate ? The- 



470 paut IV. the German world. 

oretically, it proceeded from the people ; really and truly 
from the National Convention and its Committees. The 
forces now dominant are the abstract principles — Freedom, 
and, as it exists within the limits of the Subjective Will, — 
Virtue. This Virtue has now to conduct the government 
in opposition to the Many, whom their corruption and 
attachment to old interests, or a liberty that has degenerated 
into license, and the violence of their passions, render unfaith- 
ful to virtue. Virtue is here a simple abstract principle and 
distinguishes the citizens into two classes only — those who 
are favourably disposed and those who are not. But dis- 
position can only be recognized and judged of by disposition. 
Suspicion therefore is in the ascendant ; but virtue, as soon 
as it becomes liable to suspicion, is already condemned. 
Suspicion attained a terrible power and brought to the 
scaffold the Monarch, whose subjective will was in fact the 
religious conscience of a Catholic. Robespierre set up the 
principle of Virtue as supreme, and it may be said that with 
this man Virtue was an earnest matter. Virtue and Terror 
are the order of the day ; for Subjective Virtue, whose sway 
is based on disposition only, brings with it the most fearful 
tyranny. It exercises its power without legal formalities, 
and the punishment it inflicts is equally simple — Death. 
This tyranny could not last ; for all inclinations, all interests, 
reason itself revolted against this terribly consistent Liberty, 
which in its concentrated intensity exhibited so fanatical a 
shape. An organized government is introduced, analogous 
to the one that had been displaced ; only that its chief 
and monarch is now a mutable Directory of Five, who may 
form a moral, but have not an individual unity ; under them 
also suspicion was in the ascendant, and the government 
was in the hands of the legislative assemblies ; this constitu- 
tion therefore experienced the same fate as its predecessor, 
for it had proved to itself the absolute necessity of a govern- 
mental power. Napoleon restored it as a military power, 
and followed up this step by establishing himself as an 
individual will at the head of the State : he knew how to 
rule, and soon settled the internal affairs of France. The 
avocats, ideologues and abstract-principle men who ven- 
tured to show themselves he sent " to the right about," and 
the sway of mistrust was exchanged for that of respect 



SECT. 111. THE ECLAIRCISSEMEKT AND REVOLUTION". 47.1 

and fear. He then, with the vast might of his character, 
turned his attention to foreign relations, subjected all 
Europe, and diffused his liberal institutions in every quarter. 
Greater victories were never gained, expeditions displaying 
greater genius were never conducted: but never was the 
powerlessness of Victory exhibited in a clearer light than 
then. The disposition of the peoples, i.e. their religious dis- 
position and that of their nationality, ultimately precipitated 
this colossus ; and in France constitutional monarchy, with 
the " Charte " as its basis, was restored. But here again the 
antithesis of Disposition [good feeling] and Mistrust made 
its appearance. The French stood in a mendacious position 
to each other, when they issued addresses full of devotion 
and love to the monarchy, and loading it with benediction. 
A fifteen years' farce was played. For although the Charte 
was the standard under which all were enrolled, and though 
both parties had sworn to it, yet on the one side the ruling 
disposition was a Catholic one, which regarded it as a matter 
of conscience to destroy the existing institutions. Another 
breach, therefore, took place, and the Government was over- 
turned. At length, after forty years of w^ar and confusion 
indescribable^ a weary heart might fain congratulate itself 
on seeing a termination and tranquillization of all these dis- 
turbances. But although one main point is set at rest, there 
remains on the one hand that .rupture w^hich the Catholic 
principle inevitably occasions, on the other hand that which 
has to do with men's subjective will. In regard to the latter, 
the main feature of incompatibility still presents itself, in the 
requirement that the ideal general will should also be the 
empirically general, — i.e. that the units of the State, in their 
individual capacity, should rule, or at any rate take part in 
the government. Not satisfied with the establishment of ra- 
tional rights, with freedom of person and property, with the 
existence of a political organization in which are to be found 
various circles of civil life each having its own functions to 
perform, and with that influence over the people which is 
exercised by the intelligent members of the community, and 
the confidence that is felt in them, " Liberalism'' sets up in 
opposition to all this the atomistic principle, that which insists 
upon the sway of individual wills ; maintaining that all go- 
Ternment should emanate from their expres-s power, and have 



472 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

their express sanction. Asserting *.his formal side of Free- 
dom — this abstraction — the part}- >n question allows no poli- 
tical organization to be firmly estcftlished. The particular 
arrangements of the government are forthwith opposed by the 
advocates of Liberty as the mandates of a particular will, 
and branded as displays of arbitrary power. The will of the 
Many expels the Ministry from power, and those who had 
formed the Opposition fill the vacant places ; but the latter 
liaving now become the G-overnment, meet with hostility 
from the Many, and share the same fate. Thus agitation and 
unrest is perpetuated. This coUision, this nodus, this pro- 
blem is that with whicli history is now occupied, and whose 
solution it has to work out in the future. 

2. We have now to consider the French Revolution 
in its organic connection with the History of the WoHd; 
for in its substantial import that event is World- Histori- 
cal, and that contest of Formalism wiiich we discussed in the 
last paragraph must be properly distinguished from its 
wider bearings. As regards outward difiusion its principle 
gained access to almost all modern states, either through 
conquest or by express introduction into their political life. 
Particularly all the Romanic nations, and. the Roman 
Catholic World in special — France, Italy, Spain - were 
subjected to the dominion of Liberalism. But it became 
bankrupt everywhere : first, ihe grand firm in France, then 
its branches in Spain and Italy ; twice, in fact, in the 
states into which it had been introduced. This was the 
case in Spain, where it was first brought in by the Napo- 
leonic Constitution, then by that which the Cortes adopted, 
— in Piedmont, first when it was incorporated with the 
French Empire, and a second time as the result of internal 
insurrection ; so in Rome and in Naples it was twice set up. 
Thus Liberalism as an abstraction, emanating from France, 
traversed the Roman World; but Religious slavery held that 
world in the fetters of pohticnl servitude. For it is a false 
principle that the fetters which bind Right and Freedom 
can be broken without the emancipation of conscience — that 
there can be a Revolution without a Reformation. — These 
countries, therefore, sank back into their old condition, — in 
Italy with some modifications of the outward political con- 
dition. Venice and Genoa, those ancient aristocracies, 



SECT. III. THE ECLAIRCISSEMENT AND REVOLUTIOJf. 473 

which could at least boast of legitimacy, vanished as rotten 
despotisms. Material superiority in power can achieve no 
enduring results : Napoleon could not coerce Spain into free- 
dom any more than Philip II. could force Holland into 
slavery. 

Contrasted with these Eomanic nations we observe the 
other powers of Europe, and especially the Protestant na- 
tions. Austria and England were not drawn within the 
vortex of internal agitation, and exhibited great, immense 
proofs of their internal solidity. Austria is not a Kingdom, 
but an Empire, i.e. an aggregate of many political organiza- 
tions. The inhabitants of its chief provinces are not Ger- 
man in origin and character, and have remained unaffected 
by '* ideas." Elevated neither by education nor religion, the 
lower classes in some districts have remained in a condition 
of serfdom, and the nobility have been kept down, as in Bo- 
hemia ; in other quarters, while the former have continued 
the same, the barons have maintained their despotism, as 
in Hungary. Austria has surrendered that more intimate 
connection with Germany which was derived from the im- 
perial dignity, and renounced its numerous possessions and 
rights in G*fermany and the Netherlands. It now takes its 
place in Europe as a distinct power, involved with no other. 
Englandy with great exertions, maintained itself on its old 
foundations ; the English Constitution kept its ground amid 
the general convulsion, though it seemed so much the more 
liable to be affected by it, as a public Parliament, that habit 
of assembling in public meeting w^hich was common to all 
orders of the state, and a free press, offered singular facili- 
ties for introducing the French principles of Liberty and 
Equality among all classes of the people. Was the Euglish 
nation too backward in point of culture to apprehend these 
general principles ? Yet in no country has the question of 
Liberty been more frequently a subject of reflection and 
public discussion. Or was the English constitution so 
entirely a Free Constitution, — had those principles been 
already so completely realized in it, that they could no 
longer excite opposition or even interest ? The English 
lation may be said to have approved of the emancipation of 
i'rance ; but it was proudly reliant on its own constitution 
and freedom, and instead of imitating the example of the 



474 PART IV. THE GERMAN WORLD. 

foreigner, it displayed its ancient hostility to its rival, and 
was soon involved in a popular war with France. 

The Constitution of England is a complex of mere parti- 
cular Bights and particular privileges : the Government is 
essentially administrative, — that is, conservative of the in- 
terests of all particular orders and classes ; and each par- 
ticular Church, parochial district, county, society, takes care 
of itself, so that the Grovernment, strictly speaking, has 
nowhere less to do than in England. This is the leading 
feature of what Englishmen call their Liberty, and is the 
very antithesis of such a centralized administration as exists 
in France, where down to the least village the Maire is 
named by the Ministry or their agents. Nowhere can 
people less tolerate free action on the part of others than in 
France : there the Ministry combines in itself all adminis- 
trative power, to which, on the other hand, the Chamber of 
Deputies lays claim. In England, on the contrary, every 
parish, every subordinate division and association has a part 
of its own to perform. Thus the common interest is con- 
crete, and particular interests are taken cognizance of and 
determined in view of that common interest. These ar- 
rangements, based on particular interests, render a general 
system impossible. Consequently, abstract and general 
principles have no attraction for Englishmen — are addressed 
in their case to inattentive ears. — The particular interests 
above referred to have positive rights attached to them, 
which date from the antique times of Feudal Law, and have 
been preserved in England more than in any other country. 
By an inconsistency of the most startling kind, we find them 
contravening equity most grossly ; and of institutions cha- 
racterised by real freedom there are nowhere fewer than in 
England. In point of private right and freedom of posses- 
sion they present an incredible deficiency : sufficient proof of 
which is afibrded in the rights of primogeniture, involving 
the necessity of purchasing or otherwise providing military 
or ecclesiastical appointments for the younger sons of the 
aristocracy. 

The Parliament governs, although Englishmen are un- 
willing to allow that such is the case. It is worthy of re- 
mark, that what has been always regarded as the period of 
the corruption of a republican people, presents itself here; 



SECT. ITI. THE ECLAIECISSEMENT AND EEVOLUTIOIf. 475 

viz. election to seats in parliament by means of bribery. 
But this also tbey call freedom — the power to sell one's 
vote, and to purchase a seat in parliament. 

But this utterly inconsistent and corrupt state of things 
has nevertheless one advantage, that it provides for the 
possibility of a government — that it introduces a majority of 
men into parliament who are statesmen, who from their very 
youth have devoted themselves to political business and 
have worked and lived in it. And the nation has the cor- 
rect conviction and perception that there must be a govern- 
ment, and is therefore willing to give its confidence to a body 
of men who have had experience in governing ; for a general 
sense of particularity involves also a recognition of that 
form of particularity which is a distinguishing feature of one 
class of the community — that knowledge, experience, and 
facility acquired by practice, which the aristocracy who 
devote themselves to such interests exclusively possess. 
This is quite opposed to the appreciation of principles and 
abstract views which every one can understand at once, and 
which are besides to be found in all Constitutions and 
Charters. It is a question whether the Reform in Parliament 
now on the tapis, consistently carried out, will leave the 
possibility of a Government. 

The material existence of England is based on commerce 
and industry, and the English have undertaken the weighty 
responsibility of being the missionaries of civilization to the 
world ; for their commercial spirit urges them to traverse 
every sea and land, to form connections with barbarous peo- 
ples, to create wants and stimulate industry, and fi.rst and 
foremost to establish among them the conditions necessary 
to commerce, viz. the relinquishment of a life of lawless 
violence, respect for property, and civility to strangers. 

Germany was traversed by the victorious Erench hosts, 
but Grerman nationality delivered it from this yoke. One of 
the leading features in the political condition of Germany is 
that code of E<ights which was certainly occasioned by Erench 
oppression, since this was the especial means of bringing 
to light the deficiencies of the old system. The fiction of an 
Empire has utterly vanished. It is broken up into sovereign 
states. Feudal obligations are abolished, for freedom of 
property and of person have oeen recognized as fundamental 



476 PAET IT. THE GEEMAN AVORLD. 

principles. Offices of State are open to every citizen, talent 
and adaptation being of course the necessary conditions. The 
government rests with the official world, and the persona) 
decision of the monarch constitutes its apex ; for a final 
decision is, as was remarked above, absolutely necessary. 
Yet with firmly established law^s, and a settled organization 
of the State, what is left to the sole arbitrement of the 
monarch is, in point of substance, no great matter. It is 
certainly a very fortunate circumstance for a nation, wlien a 
sovereign of noble character falls to its lot ; yet in a great 
state even this is of small moment, since its strength lies in 
the Beason incorporated in it. Minor states have their 
existence and tranquillity secured to them more or less by 
their neighbours : tliey are therefore, properly speaking, not 
independent, and have not the fiery trial of war to endure. 
As has been remarked, a share in the government may be 
obtained by every one who has a competent knowledge, ex- 
perience, and a morally regulated will. Those who know ought 
to govern — ol api<TTioi, not ignorance and the presumptuous 
conceit of "knowing better." Lastly, as to Disposition, we 
have already remarked that in the Protestant Church the 
reconciliation of Religion with Legal Right has taken place. 
In the Protestant world there is no sacred, no religious 
conscience in a state of separation from, or perhaps even 
hostility to Secular Right. 

This is the point which consciousness has attained,and these 
are the principal phases of that form in which the principle 
of Freedom has realized itself; — for the History of the 
World is nothing but the development of the Idea of Free- 
dom. But Objective Freedom — the laws of real Freedom — 
demand the subjugation of the mere contingent Will, — for 
this is in its nature formal. If the Objective is in itself 
Rational, human insight and conviction must correspond with 
the Reason which it embodies, and then we have the other 
essential element — Subjective Freedom — also realized.* We 
have confined ourselves to the consideration of that progress 
of the Idea [which has led to this consummation], and have 
been obliged to forego the pleasure of giving a detailed 

* That is, the will of the individual g-oes along with the requirements ol 
leasonable Laws. — Tr. 



SECT. Hi. THE ECLAIUCISSEMENT AND KEVOLTITION. 477 

picture of the prosperity, the periods of glory that have dis- 
tinguished the career of peoples, the beauty and grandeur of 
the character of individuals, and the interest attaching to their 
fate in weal or woe. Philosophy concerns itself only with 
the glory of the Idea mirroring itself in the History of the 
"World. Philosophy escapes from the weary strife of passions 
that agitate the surface of society into the calm region of 
contemplation ; that which interests it is the recognition of 
the process of development which the Idea has passed 
through in realizing itself — i. e. the Idea of Preedom, whose 
reality is the consciousness of Preedoni and nothing short 
of it. 

That the History of the World, with all the changing 
scenes which its annals present, is this process of develop- 
ment and the realization of Spirit, — this is the true Theodiceea, 
the justification of God in History. Only this insight can 
reconcile Spirit with the History of the World— viz., that 
what has happened, and is happening every day, is not 
only not " without G-od," but is essentially His Work. 



THE EITD. 



LONDON: PEINXED BY WILLIAM CLOT\rES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET 
AND CHAEING CROSS. 



EERATA. 

Page 35, line 5 from the bottom, for " that is his destiny, &c." read 
" that his Destiny is his very ability, &c." 

Page 112, line 18, for "contrast of Substance — Form, Infinity, &c." 
read " antithesis of Form, viz., Infinity, Ideality, has not yet asserted 
itself." 



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